A New Dawn
by Andra Sashner
Summary: Divergence from the end of Season One with spoilers for Season Two. Justin's been bashed on prom night but the attack, instead of deleting the 72 hours prior, has erased a whole lot more of his life. WARNINGS: Homosexuality.
1. Chapter 1

_**A New Dawn  
**__20__th__ April 2009 __**  
Series:**__ A Queer as Folk fan fiction  
__**Summary**__: Justin's been bashed on his prom night, eight months from the night Daphne had first brought him to Liberty Avenue. But the bashing, instead of deleting the seventy-two hours prior, has erased a whole lot more from his life.  
__**Warnings**__: Divergence from the end of Season One, post-prom night, bashing and week-long coma, begins from the first month of Justin's rehabilitation, with spoilers for season two._

* * *

"It's always tricky in brain damage situations," Doctor Harris said softly, watching his patient through the rehab centre glass window, at his side stood the patient's mother, Jennifer Taylor. "The human brain is a complex organ to begin with, and in this sort of situation it's not possible to completely assess the damage and provide an immediate solution." He gave her an encouraging smile, "It will take time and you'll need to be patient."

"I can be patient for my own son," Jennifer stated, not taking her eyes of the ball the patient and his therapist passed back and forth. "He'll need more than patience, I get that. He'll need a lot of love and support, and a lot of understanding. I know this is going to be one heck of a rocky road."

"I'm glad you're not underestimating the path ahead," Dr Harris admitted. He paused, "We've finished developing his program. Do you want to discuss it now?"

"Yes, please." Jennifer cast one last concerned look over her son before turning and following down the hall. "It'll be good to get started. The sooner we get to it, the sooner he can get his life back."

Dr Harris turned to look at Jennifer as they walked, "You make it sound like the missing eight months of his memory bear a particularly great significance."

"I can't believe it myself sometimes what kind of rollercoaster my entire family has been through in the past eight months, Dr Harris," Jennifer admitted with a humourless twist of her lips. She shook her head and enumerated, "He came out of the closet," she flashed a smile up at the doctor for the turn of phrase, "He's been dating someone and moved out. I've divorced and moved out as well, and the house he grew up in has been sold. Then there's his eighteenth birthday and not to mention what happened at his prom, this…" She nodded and with dry humour said, "The words great significance don't quite cover it."

"Sounds complicated." Shaking his own head, Dr Harris opened the door to his office and ushered her inside. He admitted, "That's going to be a lot for him to take in."

Jennifer flashed him an odd look at she took a seat. When she fidgeted, Dr Harris waited patiently for her to speak up and when she did, her eyes had lit with determination, "Maybe he doesn't have to take it all in right away. There are some things, like the prom, I hope he never remembers." She glanced out the window, her eyes taking on a faraway look, "There are things about his life… in those eight months that frankly… well, frankly, I hope he never has to deal with ever again."

"You do understand," Dr Harris gently reminded, "That it is best that he face all the aspects of the life he has lost in order to triumph over them, to move past them?"

"I know what you're saying." Jennifer turned from the window and fixed him with a hard stare. "I appreciate your professional opinion. And you know I want him to heal and overcome this. But I'm also trying to protect my son, Dr Harris." She paused then asked, "Do you remember yesterday when I told him about his sister's birthday?"

"Yes, you showed him a drawing he made for the occasion." Dr Harris particularly remember it because of the patient's reaction to seeing his own artwork. "He was very happy with the drawing." Dr Harris paused, "I had feared it would be hard for him to see some of his past work, considering we're doubtful he'll regain complete use of his hand but he was quite pleased. Your son has a blinding smile, Mrs Taylor."

"That smile," Jennifer grinned, sitting up and proud, "Is why he's called Sunshine."

Dr Harris smiled, "Yes. I recall some friends of his who had come to visit called him that."

Jennifer's smile faded and there was a long pause before she spoke again, low and sad, "I haven't seen that smile very often in the missing eight months, Dr Harris." She pinned the doctor with a flat stare. "I want to see he keeps it."

Dr Harris didn't want to say he understood.

But he did.

* * *

"Wow," Justin breathed, sitting back. "I guess it'd be an understatement to say I've missed a lot."

"I'm sorry, honey," Jennifer breathed, covering one of his hands with hers. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"So…" Justin fidgeted, fingers of his left hand picking at the sling over his right arm. "What happens now? Dad… he… will I ever see him again?"

"I'm sorry." Jennifer grimaced. This was their conversations about Craig Taylor all over again; conversations Justin do not remember. "He… he made his stand pretty clear about your orientation."

Justin looked stricken, left hand gripping tightly at the sheet over his lap and taking deep breaths. Finally, he seemed to process the words and he gave a humourless chuckle, "I guess we've had this conversation some time before, huh?"

Jennifer shook her head, "We have but that's fine. We'll cover anything you need to. Don't worry."

With a heavy sigh, he sat back and turned his chin up at the ceiling, blinking quickly. After a while, he sat back up and asked, "What about those ladies who came to visit last week, Lindsay and Melanie? Do you know where I met them?"

Jennifer hesitated a moment but she already knew what she was going to say, "They're friends you made all on your own, honey. You were out with Daphne one night and got separated, and from what I understand you ended up here in this very hospital when Lindsay gave birth. You even helped them name their son."

"Gus," Justin smiled. "That's the name of—

"—your teddy bear," Jennifer finished, smiling back.

Justin turned to stare off at the far wall for a moment, smiling and considering. Then a nervous expression flitted over his face and he began to fidget again. "Mom, I--" he shrugged, "I think we've gotten really close. I can't think why else I feel the way I do and knowing that… you're aware that I'm…"

"Gay?" Jennifer finished calmly. "Yes, we're close now. Well, I like to think so. We spent a lot of time together even after you moved out. Not immediately, of course, but we got there." She shrugged and smiled, "It took me some time to accept your coming out but here I am, everything worked out."

"Yeah, it really did." Justin smiled and clutched at his mother's hand, "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, honey." Jennifer said softly back. Her tone turned brisk, "So, what were you going to say?"

And Justin smiled again, looking relieved she'd correctly interpreted he'd been trying to get to a point there. "I mean, I wanted to ask if you know… any of those people who've been coming to visit." He nervously scratched at the sheet again. "It's just, I seem to have a lot of people coming to visit that I don't remember knowing and they're all… well… gay."

Jennifer nodded, "Yes, I know them and you do too, Sunshine." Justin paused at the name, a questioning expression coming to his face. "That's what Debbie calls you, because of your smile. Most of your new friends know that, and you have quite a number of new friends. You spent a lot of your time at Liberty Avenue--" Justin cringed at that, a wry smile on his lips, "—and you have a job there at The Liberty Diner bussing tables."

"You mean where Debbie works, right?" Justin prodded cautiously. "Um, Debbie, wasn't it?" Jennifer nodded. "She said she works there and I should come visit her soon." He paused, "She seemed really sad I didn't remember her."

"You were living with her, actually," Jennifer admitted, hating this part, hoping the questions she feared would never come up. "She took you in and helped you learn about being gay. It's how you know her son, Michael, and it's through them you met Ted and Emmet. Actually, they're pretty close to Lindsay and Melanie, I think it was Michael who went to school with Lindsay back in high school." Perfect, she thought. It all loops in.

Justin smiled, nodding as he absorbed the new associations. "That makes sense. So they're really all a whole group through Debbie that just happens to branch out."

"I guess." Jennifer paused then added firmly, "You were living with Debbie while the divorce went through until I could get a place for us, which I have done. So when you leave, you can finally come home. A new home, but home."

"Sounds like everything worked out okay then," Justin murmured. He looked sadly at his mother, "I… I know Dad hates me for all this but I… I really miss him. I feel like a huge part of me is missing and it really hurts. Like, something's not right with the world, you know?"

Jennifer held her breath. Please, she prayed, let him always think it's his father he's missing.

"Um, mom?" Justin ducked his head, a blush coming to his cheeks, his left hand smoothing over his chest in an odd gesture. "Uh… did I ever mention anything about wanting a piercing?"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part 2**_

* * *

"I got in?!" Justin exclaimed, staring in shock at the PIFA acceptance letter in his hands. "I can't believe it! I got in!" But then the grin slowly died and his face fell, the letter fluttering to the floor. "Shit," he moaned low in his throat as if in pain. "I got in."

Jennifer hovered by the doorway, wondering if she should do or say anything, wondering if she moved into the room, what would she say or do, anyway? And then Justin looked up and saw her, his mouth twisting bitterly, left hand massaging his curled up right through the pocket of his zip-up hoodie.

"I guess that's out of the picture, huh?" he murmured quietly, sitting down on his head with heavy defeat.

"I refuse to believe that," Jennifer stated, moving forward. No way was she going to back down from this. She perched herself on the bed beside him, "You know what you're like, Justin. You don't let anything back and I think you have time. You're doing great at therapy, you've gotten your writing back even if it's still a bit unstable. I really believe that you can do this. You will draw again, it's just going to take time." She stared hard at him and demanded, "You'll keep up the good work and I don't want to hear another word about it."

Justin blinked at her and then a small smile bloomed over his lips. "You're bossier than I remember, mom."

Jennifer grinned and stated, "I'm a newly-divorced single woman raising two children. You better believe I've turned into a hard ass, kid."

And for the first time in a long time, Justin laughed and she thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard.

* * *

"I love this one of Lindsay and Melanie," Justin sighed, tapping the pencil drawing in the sketch book. "They look so sweet together." Daphne and he were going through the many books of drawings he'd accumulated in his forgotten eight months, putting pieces together and reintroducing Justin to who he had become and the people he had met in that time.

"Yeah, they really do," Daphne agreed, smiling as she looked the sketch over.

Justin skimmed a finger over his own sketch, "Even though their eyes are closed, the way they lean into each other expresses so much about how they feel for each other." He smiled then turned the page.

A portrait stared back at him of a very handsome man, finely detailed, intricately shadowed. The subject stared straight out of the page, almost as though looking right into Justin's eyes. Whoever he was, he looked beautiful and polished, with the sharp features of a man but a boyish tilt to his smile… and very sad eyes.

"Who's this?"

"That's… Brian." Daphne looked away from the image and took a scoop of her ice cream, expression turning sombre and almost unhappy.

"Brian…" Justin rolled the name around in his mouth, setting Daphne's reaction aside and instead staring at the sketchbook image of the name. "One of the gay gang, right? Were we close at all?"

"Yeah, he's one of them. And um… no, not really close," Daphne admitted. She fiddled with her teaspoon, swirling it in her ice cream bowl and reached over to nudge Justin's bowl, reminding him to eat his. Molly came dashing past down the hallway, right past the kitchen doorway but Justin didn't seem to notice her. Daphne spoke up again, "It seemed more like… you just knew each other. Got together for like one or two things in common and for clubbing but I think that's it."

"Hm," he finally hummed, going back to his ice cream, handling his spoon expertly now in his left hand. "The name feels familiar but it's pretty much the same as all the other Liberty Avenue guys. I feel like I know them, I know what I feel when I see and talk to them, but I don't really know who they are. Only, I've never met this guy again." He shrugged, "So we're not close, huh? Which makes sense, really," he mused aloud, licking his spoon, "He hasn't come to visit me once."

"Yeah," Daphne quietly agreed, thinking that actually… Mrs Taylor was right about this and it would be better if Justin didn't have to face everything he had forgotten.

"Do you know how I met him?" Justin asked. He smiled, "Would be nice to know how he fits in with the others."

"Oh," Daphne smiled, that's an easy one. "He's Michael's best friend since they were really young, and he's really close to Lindsay." She wrinkled her nose and a slight blush infused her cheeks, "Really close to Lindsay, actually, because he's the… uh… the sperm donor for her and Melanie's baby."

"Hey!" Justin exclaimed, grinning. "So he's Gus' father. Okay."

"Yeah," Daphne smiled, "You met him the night Gus was born, I think. I don't know all the details, though."

Justin gave an acknowledging dip of his head and went back to his ice cream, seemingly satisfied with the conversation while Daphne spooned up another bite, not satisfied at all.

"That explains the other sketches," he mused softly.

"Other sketches?" Daphne asks uncertainly. She knew Mrs Taylor had cleaned out some of Justin's things when they'd picked them up from Debbie's, removed most of the clues like the whole sketch books of nothing but Brian.

"Yeah, a lot of them. But that's no wonder, I mean, he's totally hot." And then he blinked in surprise at his own words.

"Hot?" Daphne grinned, amused by his reaction to himself, how he didn't remember he'd done away with a whole ton of his inhibitions in those missing eight months. "Yeah, he is. You--" she broke off what she was going to say but then realised it might seem suspicious so she finished with a half-truth, "You always thought he was hot. You had a crush on him." And added, "But you got over it."

"Please just tell me I never made an idiot of myself in front of this guy?" Justin begged, gesturing at the sketch, a sudden dawn of horror coming to his face. Daphne could only blush and laugh and not answer, which was an answer all on its own and Justin grimaced before slumping over the counter groaning, "Noooo…"

"Yeeeess," Daphne teased.

And like he used to do, Justin suddenly laughed, sitting up and smiling widely. "What was I thinking? No way a hot guy like that would be interested in some high school kid!" Still laughing, he went back to his ice cream and finally shut the sketch book.

"Yeah," Daphne joked, "You should crush on people your own age!" The tightness in her chest loosed because she knew fairly well Brian shared that opinion. Presently, Justin turned the page and there smiled Debbie, hair wild about her face and laughter in her eyes.

"She was here yesterday," Justin said quietly, humour fading fast as he stroked the edge of the paper. "Debbie. Her brother Vic came too, and they were both so shocked when I couldn't remember them." He glanced up at her, "She cried. She just sat down and cried and cursed Chris for 'taking away her son' like…" with a sigh, he softly mused, "She loves me." Shaking his head, he finished, "And I have no damn clue who she is. Isn't that awful?"

Daphne had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry, Justin."

With a half-shrug, Justin quietly told her, "I wish I remembered enough to be sorry, too."

* * *

"…sorry," Justin mumbled, curling in a little more on himself.

"It's alright," Jennifer reassured though she looked hurt and worried, stepping back and allowing her son some space. "I'm just worried about you." Shaking her head, "If you don't like being touched then that's fine, I'm sorry for triggering this."

He gave her a miserable look and mumbled again, "I'm sorry."

"You should take things at your own pace," Jennifer refuted, trying to smile encouragingly. "You heard what the doctors said, right? It'll all adjust in its own time."

"It's been four months, mom," Justin said quietly, almost a whisper. "I didn't think I'd still have this much trouble so far down the line."

"Sweetie…"

"I still cringe at spaghetti sauce, you know that," Justin sighed. "And I can't stand the sight of blood but I don't know why."

"The subconscious…" Jennifer trailed off from an old comment one of his doctors had made and just looked helplessly at him.

"I know," Justin murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter by his left hip. "Just… I know." He gritted his teeth and admitted, "But I can't stay like this. I'm going to have to push. I don't want to spend the rest of my days indoors hiding away."

"Do you…" Jennifer gave him a dubious look, "Do you want to try going out?"

"Maybe we should practice," Molly suggested, bouncing up onto one of the kitchen stools nearby.

"Huh?" Justin squinted at her.

"You know, you go out and hang outside with a lots of people," Molly explained like it was the plainest thing to think. "You're okay at home and in the car and when we go grocery shopping. So maybe you can practice walking on the street." She blinked up at them, "Doesn't what the doctor said about getting used to things mean the same thing as practice?"

Jennifer smiled at her daughter, "How did you figure that?"

"Because every time we're practicing in ballet class, the teacher says we'll get used to things we haven't done before," Molly replied, smiling.

"You're such a clever little mollusc," Justin said fondly, hesitating but then rumpling his sister's hair.

"One of us has to be the clever one," Molly shot back, grinning.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**_Part 3_**

* * *

"What about this, sweetie?" Emmet asked, holding up a black mesh shirt with silver accents, the Torso logo at the hem. "Totally your style." He held it up to Justin… who for some reason felt he agreed.

"I like it," he admitted and added it to the pile over his shoulder. "Partly because I just know I like it but mostly because I know my mom will turn purple if I wear it in her presence."

Emmet laughed gaily, "Sweetie, I know you can't remember but that's just so true of you to say."

They exchanged grins. "Thanks for playing fashion consultant," Justin said. "And I love this place. You know, it's totally weird to wake up and be eighteen and legal all of a sudden, though; actually buying clothes like this and all." He laughed as he touched the shirt, "All I need now is a place to be legal in and wear this to."

"Babylon awaits, your Majesty," Emmet tossed haughtily over his shoulder, one hand majestically at his collarbone and chin tilted haughtily, before he moved further along the clothes rack.

The words felt strange to Justin's ears and he paused, considering how he felt. The words should have been a joke… so why did they sting? And… wait a minute— "Babylon?"

"Hm?" Emmet turned back around and blinked at Justin before realisation crossed his face. Looking concerned and hesitant he explained, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just… that's where we go clubbing. You used to meet up with us at Woody's for a bite or drink and then we hit Babylon." He pouted sadly, "I'm sorry you don't remember. We danced the night away there tons of times."

"Really?" Justin smiled. "I danced in a gay club? I mean, really danced?" He shook his head, embarrassed. The only moves he knew were stuff he learned from MTV… and a whole lot of the best ones weren't really of the decent sort considering the hip action and gyrations they involved. He could feel himself blush.

"Sweetie," Emmet grinned, "You can't blush now, you're dance floor hot stuff!" He theatrically tossed his head back, hand gesticulating dramatically, "Don't you worry. When you hear that thumpa-thumpa, I know you're going to feel it in your blood all over again." He winked, "Once it has you, you can ever get that beat out." Grinning and eyes sparkling, "and if I recall correctly, you certainly convinced the entire club at the King of Babylon contest!"

"What?" Justin gasped, stunned.

"You joined a dance-based competition, Justin," Emmet grinned, "And you won!"

"No shit!" Justin laughed, mortified and delighted. "I got up on the stage and danced?"

"_Pole_ danced," came the cheerful correction.

"No!" he moaned, aghast.

"Down to your tighty-whitey underwear!" Emmet gleefully added.

"Ahh! No way!" Justin groaned and collapsed on a nearby ottoman, laughing hard, red-cheeked, hands covering his ears in mortified denial. "No, no, no…"

"Yes, yes, yes." Emmet nodded enthusiastically, grinning and pouncing, pulling Justin's hands out of the way. "You got up there and shook your ass, and you had the damn entire crowd drooling. Ha! You really showed up--" he broke off, smile dimming suddenly.

Justin noticed, still smiling even as he furrowed brows at the hesitation, and waited patiently for him to finish.

"You really showed us all, sweetie." He grinned again but it wasn't as bright as earlier, sitting up and nudging Justin with his shoulder. "And I cheered for you the loudest, by the way."

"Did I buy you a drink for that?" Justin joked, not liking this mood, smiling and trying to ease it.

"No, so you can get me one tonight," Emmet rejoined, relief in his expression, throwing an arm around Justin's shoulders and smiling widely.

"I'm sorry I can't remember that. It must have been a quite a night." He fingered the mesh shirt, scratching his nails lightly over the fabric.

"You have no idea," Emmet muttered, a wicked grin surfacing briefly on his lips.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Relax," Emmet patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, "Don't worry about what you forgot. No one cares whether or not you go back to being who you are, we already love you. You just start off from where you are and keep going. Just be sure you have fun along the way, okay? We're here for you no matter what."

Justin smiled, feeling loved and accepted, his eyes wet and prompting Emmet to give him a big hug. He wished he could remember if he had been as good a friend back.

* * *

"Mom says I shouldn't go," Justin admitted quietly. He slouched over his knees where he sat on Mel and Lindsay's living room couch.

"But this is your case, why not?" Lindsay threw Melanie a look as she took a seat beside him. "Prosecution would be a little stronger with you there."

"I agree," Melanie put in, crouching to put a sleeping Gus in his carrier. "If not just to show up in front of the press and give more of a presence to the photos circulating, it'll do you some good to get closure."

"But I don't even remember what it is he did," Justin insisted, not looking at them and fiddling with a couch pillow in his lap. "I don't remember what I've lost." Even with his head bowed, he sensed them trade a meaningful look. As one, they moved closer to him on each side on the couch.

"Justin," Melanie began, "I know you don't remember, all of us do, and that doesn't bother us at all. The thing that does is we know what you have lost and we know it was important to you." She glanced at Lindsay briefly, "Try and see it from our perspective, Justin, we lost our friend."

"To you, we're not your friends," Lindsay interjected. "But you're ours. You've forgotten all the reasons we love you and… all the reasons why you love us." She rubbed a hand over his knee and smiled gently, "I helped you have your first art show at the Gay and Lesbian Centre." Justin's head popped up at her words. "Yes, you did. You don't remember what a great day that was for you, how you sold all your art and raised all that money for the Centre charity."

"You carried our shopping bags when we needed help," Melanie added as she sat down on Justin's other side, "You helped around the house when we had our hands full with work and the baby. Hell, you even took care of Gus when that idiot Brian—couldn't be bothered."

Justin noticed the trip in her words but didn't comment. He said softly, "I wish I could remember."

"The point is," Lindsay stated, "Is that we do know. And it's not fair. We want to see this guy get what he deserves because we love you and we do know what you've lost. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah." Justin sighed.

"But?" Melanie prodded.

"I'm… a little scared of seeing him again," he admitted softly, curling in again. "Chris Hobbs. I don't want to see him."

"Sweetie?" Lindsay asked, leaning in and looking worried. "What do you mean?"

"I have… nightmares," Justin revealed so quietly, it was almost under his breath, "I don't remember a lot when I wake up but I remember hearing someone call my name, a really loud crunch, and Chris Hobbs laughing at me. Except that last thing is at school in the locker room for some reason, like some sort of time jump and I don't know why that is."

The two exchanged another look, concerned and a little alarmed.

"I'm okay for the most part, though," Justin tried to reassure, trying to smile but only one corner of his lips made it up and it couldn't stay there.

"Have you told anyone about these nightmares?" Melanie asked gently, stroking a hand over his hair.

"My therapist and my mom," Justin answered, nodding. "And now you guys."

With a comforting rub over his shoulder Lindsay kindly asked, "What did the therapist say?"

"That I need to face my fears," Justin admitted, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. "Which is kind of screwed up because he keeps telling my mom that no one should tell me about my past too much, and yet I'm supposed to face them?" They both exchanged understanding glances with him. "Anyway, I don't want to, though. I mean, I really don't want to… be there."

"Well," Melanie began slowly, "Maybe the sentencing isn't the best opportunity to do it, but you will have to face him eventually, you know. You'll have to look him in the face and you're going to have to work through whatever happens then."

"I wish you didn't have to," Lindsay said on a sad tone, leaning her head on Justin's shoulder. "I wish we could just keep you away and make sure you're safe all the time from now on." She sighed, "But maybe I agree with Melanie on this one. I do hope you reconsider going."

"Can't I just watch it all on TV?" Justin joked, leaning into their touches.

"At the very minimum," Melanie conceded, hugging him from his other side.

When they sat back, Justin gave them a long look, "Um… can I ask something? About my past?"

Lindsay twisted her lips in a 'why not?' expression and answered, "Of course. Ask away."

"Debbie and Vic came to visit me last week when I finally left the hospital," Justin turned to Lindsay, "I think it was the same day of your sister's wedding." He smiled, "You owe me a story about that one, Ted said you made quite a statement."

Lindsay buried her face in a hand as Melanie chuckled, "Oh, Justin, it was a night to remember." She winked, "I'll tell you all about it later."

With a smile, Justin continued, "Anyway, when Deb and Vic were over, they said something that kind of puzzled me." He hesitated then clarified, "They were talking about Brian," Melanie and Lindsay shot each other an alarmed look. "Hey, I know who he is. I do, I have drawings of him." The two women nodded and didn't say anything so after a moment Justin went on, "But they seemed particularly concerned if I remember him for some reason."

Even not remembering Melanie, Justin still understood the 'let me handle this' look she gave her partner before speaking, "What have you heard so far?" And when Justin explained, she nodded firmly, tossing Lindsay that look again.

But then Justin added, "Debbie wanted my mom to tell me the truth about him, whatever that means. So I figured I'm missing something."

Melanie looked at him for a moment before a small smile curled on her lips. "Neither Lindsay nor I are the best people to talk to you about him or what occurred, if anything did, between the two of you."

Justin figured then she must be good at her job as a lawyer; he simply nodded, let down that he wouldn't be hearing any details.

"All of what you know about him is pretty much correct." Melanie sighed as she studied his solemn and disappointed face then relented to say, "All I can say is that I think the only missing pieces are the parts were he was such a bastard to you."

"Mel," Lindsay protested reprovingly.

"No, it's true," Melanie insisted, raising a shushing hand to Lindsay. "He's part of the extended family, he's practically Deb's son and he's definitely Michael's best and worst friend, and oh," she angled her head as though suddenly remembering something, "I hate his guts."

"Mel…"

She waved her partner's concerns dismissively and told Justin, "He's not really close to any of us except Lindsay." She shrugged and added, "In fact, he pisses us all off and we just pretty much tolerate him for her sake."

"Mel!"

"What? You have something to correct about any of that?" Melanie gave Lindsay a challenging look complete with raised brows.

"Well," Lindsay smiled a little sheepishly, "Maybe not…"

"See?" Melanie nudged Justin and gave him an encouraging smile.

Justin processed that all for a moment then shrugged, "Okay."

The look Lindsay and Melanie exchanged at that had more than a touch of relief to it.

Dismissing the topic entirely he paused before asking, "So did Michael and the doctor really break up?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_**Part 4**_

"So we didn't get him?" Molly asked plaintively. Justin just stands stoically there, not moving, not fidgeting, his jaw clenched and he knows his eyes are cold.

Looking reluctant, Jennifer glanced between her children and finally answered, "No, sweetie, looks like we didn't."

Molly patted Justin's arm, "But we're going to be okay, right?"

He knew his sister didn't completely understand what had happened so he'd have to be brave for her. "Yeah, we are," he told her and tried to smile but it faded as his thoughts turned back to the news Debbie had just delivered via phone call. He corrected, "We will be." His mother reached out and laid a hand on his back too, a small sad smile on her face. "We just need some time."

"I'm sorry," Jennifer whispered. "I would have sued him if I could afford it. I thought the justice system—"

"—wouldn't want queers dead?" Justin sighed and stated, "I knew they'd let him go. They don't like my kind. We're not worth shit to them." He scoffed, "Five hundred hours of community service, my ass. Probably would have gotten the same sentence if he'd actually killed me. The damn justice system just wants us all dead."

"Justin!" Jennifer admonished, rather horrified by his sentiments.

"Why do they want queer people dead?" Molly asked, worried and confused. "If Justin's a queer person and there are other queer persons then don't their families have anything to say too?"

"There aren't a lot of queers in the world, mollusc," Justin muttered flatly, moving away from their touch now, uncomfortable and feeling closed in. "Just enough most people have to know we exist but not enough that anyone gives a shit."

"Justin," Jennifer reproached even as she let her son move away and turned to Molly, "It's just that there are a lot of people who don't understand what it means to be gay, sweetheart. They think it's strange and they don't know what to do."

"Except maybe wonder at whether or not there's just few enough of us to get away with genocide," Justin grumbled, turning away for the stairs.

And Molly promptly asked, "What's genocide?"

"I'll leave that one to you, mom," Justin called over his shoulder as he headed back up to his room.

"Thanks," Jennifer sarcastically fired after him.

* * *

"Sunshine!" Debbie screeched, arms thrown wide, "Hug?"

Smiling, Justin gave her just that; a brief one.

"Welcome back, baby," Kiki said kindly, patting him on the shoulder when Debbie released him.

Justin smiled and nodded at all the well-wishes, hoping the attention would all blow over and he could just get back to work. Re-learning all the things he should already know didn't feel like such a pleasant prospect but this was his job and it had been his life. He must have chosen this for some reason; he'd just have to figure out why all over again.

"Welcome back, baby!" Debbie pulled him in close and leaned in to furiously whisper, "You and me are gonna sit down an' talk, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he obediently murmured back.

She spoke to the crowd at large, "He's home!" All the patrons gave a toast or cheer.

"Thanks, everybody," Justin smiled, giving a quick wave.

"Okay, so let's get this show rolling!" Debbie cheered, giving him one last grinning squeeze and whipping out her pad of paper to take the nearest order.

Justin, still smiling, headed for the kitchen to grab a basin and clear up that table by the window. Ten minutes later, another table of people got up and then it was just one thing after another, back and forth from floor to kitchen, focusing on using his left more than his right just in case his gimp hand decided to act up. He wondered if he'd always had to put up with the not so discreet gropes or smacks to his ass if he wasn't careful but then again the tips were worth it so that must have been the trade-off.

When Emmet and Ted came in for breakfast, things looked up for a while;

"Hey, sweetie," Emmet crooned, "You're here early. Welcome back."

"It's nice to be back," Justin replied glibly, "If I could remember what it was like before." He grinned, indicating he didn't mind the situation, as he poured their coffee, "It's kind of nice not to remember, the whole thing has newness to it and I get to not remember all the bad things about the job."

"That's a good perspective to have," Ted commended. "Getting settled in all over again means you can keep your starry-eyes a little longer." He gave a wry tilting nod of his head, "Or have it again…?"

"Yep!" Justin smiled.

Ted nodded then said, "Hey, look, about the sentencing…" he fidgeted in his seat, shooting a glaring Emmet an apologetic glance, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Me too, sweetie," Emmet joined, and with a solemn nod and a dainty flap of his hand, "I couldn't believe my eyes and ears when that judge passed it."

"Don't let Debbie hear you say anything about that," Justin hissed, leaning in. "She gave my mom and I the whole shouting tirade last night about protesting and marching on Washington!"

"But won't you protest at all?" Ted asked, "I mean, it's you we're talking about here. The whole thing's a shit situation."

Justin shrugged, "Nothing we can do now. And I expected something like this to happen, anyway. You should have seen the way the cops handled the questioning at the hospital when they came to take my statement. They actually asked me if I'd had a crush on Chris Hobbs." Shaking his head and looking disgusted, "Insanity. Look, I'm just happy you guys all went to support it. That means a lot to me. I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"Don't worry about it. We know why you didn't go." Emmet gave him a sympathetic look and patted his arm, "And I'm sorry, too, sweetie."

"Sorry's bullshit," Justin muttered, giving a dismissive shake of his head. A new arrival took the seat next to Emmet so he turned at the same time asking, "Coffee?"

"Black," the stranger replied, pointing at the caffeinated pot, staring hard even as he nudged his cup forward. To Ted and Emmet, he lazily called, "Hello, boys."

Justin paused, pots in his hands, before he managed somehow to tear his gaze away. The sudden flare of desire at the sight of this man had startled him –but to be expected. This guy looked hot, personified hot, totally sexy hot… and recognition hit.

"Hey there," he said, eyes moving to his task, careful not to spill the coffee because if Daphne were to be believed, he had made a fool of himself in front of this guy enough times. He looked over the hand on the counter, noting the familiar seashell bracelet he'd added into a few of his drawings. "You're Brian, right?"

Brian instantly looked discomfited and guarded, even nervous. But then he saluted Justin with the sugar shaker before dumping what looked like half the contents into his cup and said casually, "The one and only."

"Nice to meet you… again," Justin smiled, noticing how Brian's stare roved thoroughly as he stirred his drink, searching Justin out as though checking for injury.

Justin looked away, only to see that Ted and Emmet had suddenly fallen quiet, throwing awkward glances their way. He ignored them. And thinking of what Daphne had told him about Brian, he couldn't trust the warm lick of attraction in his blood or the speeding up of his heart rate, and figured it would be best to ignore Brian as well. The guy hadn't visited or even asked after him.

No hanging around to check him out some more. Play it cool.

But as he turned to go, Brian chased the question, "So how are you doing?"

It had been pitched low, maybe to disguise the concern in it. But Justin heard it, the reluctant worry and a slight frustration. He turned back and tried to smile, feeling discomfited, and for some reason Brian jerked his eyes away from him and stared at his coffee.

"I'm okay. I guess someone told you," he glanced toward Ted and Emmet, "that I don't really remember anything about my life here on Liberty Avenue. Generally, from two months ago, the eight months prior are a complete blank."

Brian peeked up at him from under semi-furrowed brows, coffee cup poised before his lips, a hard but slightly assessing expression in them. He took a sip, eyes falling to his cup before casually asking, "So how do you know who I am?"

Justin hesitated there, staring until Brian looked up and he could meet the hazel-green of Brian's eyes; the colour of rainforests, he thought. He studied Brian, followed the handsome contours of a face he seemed to know so well that he had rendered it in minute detail on paper over and over again; sideways, forward, smiling, frowning –the smooth hair, broad forehead, piercing eyes, prominent cheekbones, wide jaw and distinguished chin.

"I've drawn you," he admitted, learning Brian's features all over again and feeling an itch to grab a pencil and some paper. He managed to shake the urge away, instead turning to nod and smile at Ted and Emmet still sitting quietly nearby. "I've drawn all of you." Brian gave an acknowledging nod at this, some of the tension in his shoulders bleeding away but his hands clutched tightly around his coffee mug. "They're like photographs, in a way. Daphne and I went through them and she told me about everyone, including you."

"Oh yeah?" Brian asked nonchalantly but his eyes burned as they looked up at Justin. He set his cup down and on a low tone asked, "And what did she say?"

"Um, not much, actually," Justin shrugged, puzzled when he saw what looked like disappointment flash in Brian's eyes. "She said you're Michael's best friend and part of his main circle along with Ted and Emmet, and you're close to Lindsay –which you must be since you're Gus' dad. Plus, you're close to Debbie and uh, I… don't know much else, sorry."

Something told him he shouldn't prod for more information when both Emmet and Ted shifted in their seats. That and the flat look Brian shot them, quelling the movements. But then Brian looked at him, right into his eyes, gaze pointed and unreadable, and Justin's heart rate tripped again, pounding in his chest a little too hard.

When Brian tore his stare away, Justin finally felt able to breathe again and thoughtlessly mused aloud, "I think I liked to draw you."

Brian stilled, cradling his mug in its saucer, gaze hooded and wary as he glanced back up at Justin. Looking back down at the counter, in a flat but strangely soft tone, almost mocking, he asked, "And what makes you say that?"

"My sketches are a lot like journal entries. They tell me a lot about both who I drew and remind me of what I must have been feeling when I drew them. You're all… close to me, I can tell that much. I know I've studied all you guys as drawing subjects but you…" He shrugged and grinned, "You must have been one of my most favourite subjects coz of the details I put in, the strokes I used. And there are quite a number of drawings of you."

Something changed in Brian's demeanour at those words and in those rainforest eyes when he looked back up… but that couldn't be fear in them, could it? And while Justin couldn't quite figure out what it was, a touch to it made him think that he probably shouldn't have said that… at the same time that his heart rate sped up a little again in some kind of distant anticipation.

Confusing.

"Well," he tried to play it off and might likely be babbling but he said, "You _are _an attractive specimen of the male species."

"And don't you forget it." Brian downed the rest of this coffee, a deliberate dismissal in his tone, tension tight in his posture and the slightly fake nonchalance, and refusing to meet Justin's gaze.

Something in Justin hurt at the reply and his smile began to fail so he decided a retreat should be in order. With a slight shrug he murmured as he turned away, "Later."

He managed to smile and nod at Ted and Emmet as he passed, and when he'd almost made it to the kitchen, belatedly but in the silence of the counter, just barely audible, he heard Brian softly reply on a gruff tone,

"Later."

* * *

"There is no later," Debbie stated flatly. "If it were up to me, I'd been telling you all about who you were and what you were doing but…" she sighed, "I heard what the doctors said. And yer mother made it loud and clear what she thought of me butting into your business this time around…"

Justin smiled, sensing very clearly how this woman made it her business if it had anything to do with people she cared about. "Thanks."

She smiled, "What the fuck for, Sunshine?"

"For caring that much," he said, still as startled now as he was the first time he'd heard her swear. He paused, warring between instinct and propriety before he leaned in and gave her a hug. "I just hope maybe you'll tell me things as we go along, okay? Small stuff?"

"Sure thing." She smiled, ruffling up his hair a bit. But then the smile dimmed and she asked, "How you holdin' up otherwise?"

"Pretty good, considering," he said, trying to smile. "It's hard for me to get to know everyone again, I keep getting weird looks for a lot of people. And most folks aside from our group don't feel comfortable talking to me. Or else they just want to know how I am. Complete strangers, or so I think."

"A lot of the people 'round here know about what happened to you," Debbie said, looking troubled. "Most are good people, concerned, ya know. And maybe some of them you… sort of knew."

There was something in her tone at those last words that he thought he might ask a bit more about only he really didn't want to ask a 'wrong' question and piss her off. He smiled tentatively instead.

"You just gotta know that anytime you need anything," she said sternly, all motherly and firm, "You can come talk to me. You can trust me to try to do the best I can for you, okay?"

He could feel the warmth of her words down to his soul, her emotions so very evident in her eyes. "Thanks, Deb."

"You just… be careful, ya hear?" She seemed stressed all of a sudden. Or like she wanted to say something and couldn't. "And don't go believing every damn thing anyone tells you, you have to think about how you feel about it. You're not who you used to be and trying to 'go back' is just about the dumbest thing I ever heard, so you just be yourself."

He smiled at all her fussing and tried to reassure her, "Don't worry, Debbie. I'll do just that."

"See?" she muttered, ruffling his hair and straightening out his clothes, "What do they know? You're going to be just fine." She gave him a sharp nod and indicated toward the door with a nod of her head and raised brows, "You go have fun tonight. Dazzle them all with your smile, we've all missed you."

"Thanks," Justin whispered, giving her another quick hug before he turned and left.

Dead end, he thought.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_**Part 5**_

"Mom, trust me," Justin sighed. "I'm just going dancing. I'm not going to romp around like some bitch-in-heat fairy looking for a—" He slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened, "Shit, mom, sorry."

Jennifer angled her head reproachfully at her son though truthfully, she'd gotten used to his foul mouth –even if he didn't remember it. Anyone who spent any time with Debbie had to come away with some side-effects. "I'm just glad you realise what you said." She looked him over one more time, expression wrinkling with concern. "And are you sure about that outfit?"

"Mom, I'm sure." He fingered the mesh top, checked the way it clung gently to his body, the long hem slipping over the thick black belt and the hem of his black cargo trousers. He had on a new pair of black sneakers, a leather trimmed pair a lot more sleek and stylish than his usual wear. And for some reason, he'd wanted to slick his hair up –which as far as he knew, he'd never done before.

"And the leather?" Jennifer asked doubtfully, still staring critically.

"I like them," Justin said, shaking his wrists, admiring the way the leather straps made his wrists seem smaller and his skin paler.

"That's a really tight-fitting shirt…"

"Mom!" Justin laughed, "That's what you said when you first saw me and I'm not going over this with you again." He trotted over to the hall mirror and checked himself out, musing, "I don't where these muscles came from but I sure as hell like showing them off."

Giving a resigned shake of her head, "Oh, alright." She fixed him with a stern look. "Do you have your cell phone? You need it to call me when you're ready to come home."

"Yes, mom, I have it."

As they got into the car, "Is the eyeliner really necessary?"

"Mooooom…"

* * *

"Whoa, hot stuff!" Emmet exclaimed in greeting when Justin showed up at the meeting place corner near Babylon. He grinned and declared, "Look at you, all drool worthy!"

"I got to admit," Ted joined, smiling, "You do look tasty."

Instead of fidgeting as he thought he should do, Justin felt the urge to slowly strip off his jacket and give his friends a show. He laughed, delighted by his instinct because he felt comfortable and assured these were people he could trust. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "So do we make our entrance or what?"

"You stay behind me," Emmet ordered with mock sternness, turning with a flounce. "You're going to steal the spot light as soon as they all see you so let me have the eyes on me for even just a little while."

Laughing, Justin hooked an arm through one of Ted's and followed. He smiled politely when the bouncer checked him out, grinned when two others near the entrance stopped to stare, and laughed when he finally joined the body of people in the club. A thrill of exhilaration sang through him at the sound, sight and smell, and a wide smile surfaced on his lips.

"This is amazing!" he crowed. "I want to dance first."

Ted grinned, pulling away to head to the bar, "I'll grab us our drinks. Come over soon, okay?"

"Got a feel for that thumpa-thumpa again?" Emmet called with a wink, leaning over Justin's left shoulder.

"You bet your perky ass I do," Justin laughed back. He grabbed Emmet, "Let's go shake some tail on the floor!"

Ten minutes later, just two songs down, Justin and Emmet threw themselves down on the bar counter, laughing. Ted smiled and pushed their drinks over.

"Oh my God, did you see that Adonis in the white shirt?" Justin asked on a breathless gasp. Taking a sip of his drink and wrinkling his nose at the sweet cocktail, "I swear he's the most muscled guy I've ever seen! God, he was hot, why the hell would an amazing looking guy like that check me out?"

"You must have left a lasting impression," Ted joked, raising his glass in a little salute. Emmet shot him a warning look that Justin did not miss.

"Huh?"

Ted went wide-eyed then glanced at Justin, "Uhh… sorry, I mean, it's just that, you know… uh, you and him…"

"What Teddy means to say," Emmet cut in, rolling his eyes, "Is that you must have left an impression from when you first met him. That from what I understand, he better damn well be checking you out every time he lays eyes on you."

Justin stared, bewildered and a little apprehensive. "What?"

"Umm… well… he means…" Ted attempted.

"What I mean is that," Emmet flashed Ted a quick glower, "Is that you've been… well… sexually active." He gave Justin a sympathetic look, "And he was one of your… conquests."

Justin gaped.

"I know you don't remember," Emmet leaned in to say, "But there are a… number of guys here who… uh… remember you."

"Shit," Justin muttered. Oddly, he didn't feel all that perturbed –a shocking thing all on its own. He ought to be scandalised, nervous about his nudity but instead all he could feel was excited and nervous, and maybe a little kind of prideful satisfaction. "You're not kidding me, right? That's for real?"

Ted nodded slowly, a small twist at his mouth that said, _unfortunately, yes._

Then a thought struck him so hard he couldn't help but blurt it out, "Who was my first?"

Emmet and Ted exchanged a long meaningful look. When they turned back, for once on this topic Ted's voice stayed firm, "Some stud of the fuck 'em and leave 'em kind." He shook his head, "Trust me. Don't worry your pretty head about him."

Disappointment hit and Justin masked his dismay by having more of his drink, wondering why he would have chosen some random guy to sleep with for the first time. The first time ought to be… well… special. He must have chosen someone experienced then; if you couldn't have someone special for your first time then it must have been someone who knew what he was doing. But then he huffed, wrinkling his nose at the drink and giving a humourless laugh at himself. It wouldn't matter, really, because he didn't remember.

Probably never would.

Justin pushed the glass away on that thought, trying not to feel dejected. He leaned on the counter giving the drink a glare the bar tender noticed enough to serve him up two shots of bourbon in a low ball glass. He gave the man an inquisitive look but the guy just indicated the drink with a small smile.

With a shrug, Justin picked it up and sipped, closing his eyes at the slow and satisfying burn down his throat. _Yes._ He gave the bar tender a grateful look and raised the glass in salute, smiling, and just then the music changed into a bass-heavy beat.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. With a quick wave at Ted and Emmet he almost threw himself back onto the dance floor. "I love this song, gotta dance!"

Emmet waved him away with a smile and Justin went with the music, the heavy beat pulling him deep in and drowning out all his thoughts and worries, all the concerns about remembering the things he'd forgotten. It wound its way into his soul, bringing colours and images to mind behind his closed eyelids. He could paint this; he could see what it would look like, this feeling…!

A hand curled at his hip, large and wanting, unfamiliar and unwanted. Justin opened his eyes only long enough to smile and shake his head, and move a bit away to indicate his disinterest. The guy, a cute brunet, shrugged and moved on.

Not even half a minute later, a body pressed close, lining up along his back, hips slotting in behind his own, an arm curling around to hold him close. Again, Justin moved away, shaking his head and giving an apologetic look. The guy shrugged and danced away.

When the next song transitioned in, Justin whooped along with half the floor, another chart-topping bass-laden song blasting through the speakers and making him grin widely. He tried not to smile at anyone in particular, not wanting to broadcast the wrong message, but he couldn't contain his delight and compensated by closing his eyes once more.

Midway into the new tune, someone grabbed him, pulling him forward and up high against a broad chest and Justin blinked in shock but instantly arched away, shaking his head and trying to brace his weight with his hands on the stranger's shoulders enough to get out of the hold.

But this time, the blond muscle-hunk simply smirked before leaning in, keeping Justin flush against him. Pressed in his way, Justin became aware of how very small and so very helpless he was against the larger man.

Panic suddenly washed over him and Justin struggled, pushing and flailing, kicking out and squirming. Startled by his vehement resistance, the guy let go and Justin all but dashed away, threading quickly through the people to the nearest wall and pressing his back against it. His breath came in pants, his heart thudded loudly in his ears, chest closing in and his knees felt weak, like he would collapse to the floor any moment now, _oh, God_—

Arms encircled him, pulling him close and upright, tugging his weight into a strong embrace so he wouldn't fall. His face naturally fell to one high shoulder, nosed pushed into a soft neck, breath catching the scent of warm vanilla musk that brought with it a feeling of calm and reassurance.

_Safe._

Instinctively, he pressed close, moving his hands from where they gripped the man's arms to winding up around smooth shoulders, and took another deep breath.

"That's it," murmured a soft voice in his ear, a low commanding baritone. "Breathe deep, slowly. You're going to be alright."

"Is he okay?" Emmet's worried voice cut in somewhere above the noise. "I sort of saw what happened. He just freaked out! Sweetie, are you alright?"

"Strangers up close and personal, Honeycutt," the man holding Justin snapped, his voice rough but familiar, arms tightening around Justin as he spoke. "Considering it was someone he fucking knew who attacked him, what the hell made you think bringing him here would be a fucking good idea?"

Justin wanted to laugh at all the curse words, finding it strangely reassuring this man seemed so concerned for his welfare. It felt right to be here, it felt good to hear that voice but curiosity overtook the fear so he looked up.

"Oh," he breathed, startled by the rainforest shade of the man's narrowed eyes, the furrowed brow and stern frown doing nothing to detract from astonishingly good looks. "Oh!" He gave a shaky smile, "Hey, Brian…"

Brian froze; Justin could feel it, being held so closely this way. The green-hazel gaze fixed a hard stare on him and then his heart began to pound, the warm heat of desire curling in his abdomen… shit. Hadn't Daphne said he was over his little crush?

It really didn't feel like it.

He must have lied to Daphne.

He wanted to look aside, break the eye contact, escape, get away, because showing how much Brian affected him felt like a very bad idea. Suddenly nervous he loosened his hold and slowly withdrew, hands irresistibly smoothing over the smooth silk of Brian's sleeveless shirt but really paying more attention to the contours of muscle beneath.

There surfaced a wry smirk on Brian's lips, making Justin pause and stare transfixed—

A gasp tore from his throat as he felt himself falling forward, chest to chest, pulse speeding up, hands gripping tight to those shoulders, when Brian suddenly walked backward, bringing him along. While it would probably be a better idea to pull away –he didn't know this guy, hadn't rediscovered any kind of friendship with him—he felt that he _wanted_ to go.

Sure hands, large and possessive, curved over Justin's hips, pulling them close together, beginning to move them to the music. Brian leaned down, letting Justin's hands remain twined about his neck. He pressed his nose into Justin's hair and Justin was sure he took a deep breath. The beat moved them, Brian's touch guided him, Brian's breathing his pace to the movements, the closeness between them a certainty that he would be alright.

Justin thought dizzily that he had every intention of banging his head against a very hard surface at the first opportunity because, damn it, there must have been a reason he'd lied to Daphne. The only reason he could think of was that he didn't want to feel this way. Not telling her, denying its very existence and therefore opportunity for discussion meant that he must have not wanted to deal with it.

This should be wrong.

And it was there, he realised suddenly; a slow burn ache of 'be careful' churning in his gut as he stared up at Brian's tense face. But then why did every instinct in him press him for nothing but to move closer, stay put, be with Brian…?

Shaking his head, Justin broke the stare, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath –again that vanilla musk, again the sensation of being where he should be.

"This is confusing," he muttered to himself, distracted by the way Brian's hands moved over his thin shirt.

"I don't see how," Brian sarcastically cajoled, "You don't need a brain to dance, do you? Oh wait…"

"Fuck you," Justin snapped back with a small grin. And then he blinked at his own words, surprised by the sudden retort but Brian only smirked at him so it must be normal. Assured, Justin relaxed again and resumed notice of the details; the way Brian's hands remained gentle on him, the way Brian danced keeping him close and protectively curled in away from crowd, the way it all contrasted with the mask of cool regard in Brian's rainforest eyes.

Oh.

_Oh._

Moving on his hunch, Justin airily said, "Thanks for catching me back there." He didn't expect a reply and sure enough, none came, but Brian's expression relaxed minutely, a warmer light coming to his eyes. "Do you always go around rescuing little fainting fairies?"

Brian barked a low laugh, "Just the blond ones with nice bubble butts."

"Oh, is that so?" Justin pretended to check his own ass over his shoulder, feeling laughter shake Brian's shoulders under his arms as he did.

"And do you always go off with strange men to dance?" Brian bantered back.

"Just the tall, dark and handsome ones who turn me on," Justin replied off handed and he could almost cheer at the light of heat in Brian's eyes. He dared to add, "Especially when images of them cover half the pages of every sketch book I own." Brian's smile wilted a little and Justin could have kicked himself. He rushed to tack on, "I knew you pretty well, didn't I?"

"Actually, no," Brian said, expression turning guarded but his eyes roiled with too many emotions as he stiffly let Justin go. He turned to leave, "You don't know me at all."

"Then why are you running away?" Justin called to Brian's back, a sharp pang in his chest prompting him to speak. Brian stilled, turning to glare over his shoulder but Justin only smiled and said, instinct telling him not to push. "Come find me again, okay?"

Brian turned and melted into the crowd as Justin stared but knew he could do nothing. Turning his own back, he let the music sweep him away once more.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_**Part 6**_

"Ugh," Justin gave a soft grunt, squashing his eyes shut against the bright light of day streaming down onto his face. He belligerently rolled over to tuck his head under a pillow… but there wasn't one and he'd run out of 'bed.' "Damn it!" he hissed, lifting himself up off the floor. "Why the hell am I on the couch?"

"Maybe you were you painting this morning, honey," his mother mentioned, strolling past on her way to the garage.

Then he remembered the dancing, catching Brian's eye every now and again in between Brian's visits to the back room, recalled how he'd reacted to Ted's explanation of the back room… and stories of how he himself had once been a rather frequent patron. Uncertain, he avoided the area and bar near it, not wanting to re-establish his associations with it. Instead he did some of his own visiting around the club, innocently heading to the men's room to relieve a massive hard on he refused to allow himself to think too much about. Something about the way Brian had looked at him… there'd been a familiar heat to them.

The thought occurred to him that he knew what was going on… and he just didn't like it. The only explanation, and Justin knew it instinctively, could only be that he had slept with Brian at some point, if the things Emmet and Ted had told him were true and he'd been sexually active.

Very active, they'd said.

Shit, maybe that was why he'd lied to Daphne. He hadn't wanted to face the attraction for a one-night stand. Could it have been a mistake? Shaking his head he decided he'd probably done the facing, acknowledged the problem and set his feelings aside to fade with time. Made sense… except for the part where he felt safe in Brian's embrace.

That made no sense at all.

But it didn't have to make sense, he thought, as he looked over the canvas he'd begun painting when dawn had risen.

When he'd gotten home with his mom and she'd gone to bed, he'd pulled out his easel and a canvas, prepped his paints and thinners, his brushes and knives. He'd set up and paced, waiting, waiting for the sun to come up until he could put his feelings down.

He'd cursed and raved when his hand failed, when the shaking got so bad he wanted to cry. But there it was.

A medium sized canvas sat on his easel covered in the colours of his feelings amidst the scene at Babylon the night before. The wall to the right and to the left the blurred, multitude of people in greyed out colours, the trail of deep purple, red, black and dark blue trailing a haze behind the couple heading onto the dance floor. The couple stood out, stark in colour, radiating it, possessing each other, flowing into under and over the other, clinging and yet wanting to let go. The lights of the dance floor pulsed around them, the people danced and the distortion of the image in its entirety suggested loud music… but the couple remained in focus, one character the focal of the entire painting.

Brian.

Justin wanted that feeling again, the wash of emotions he could barely contain and would want to outpour onto canvas… and his hand cramped in reaction to the thought.

"Christ!" Justin swore, turning away to get a hot shower and maybe some breakfast or would it be lunch—"Oof! Shit! Sorry, mom, I didn't know you were standing right there…" Jennifer stared at the canvas, expression tense and worried. "Mom?"

"It's amazing, honey," she said with a soft smile, eyes still on the painting. "Is that Babylon?"

"Um, yeah." Justin studied her expression, noted the way her eyes moved over and over the couple in the image. "Mom? Something wrong?"

"Just wondering what you painted." She pointed at the blond head, "Is that you?"

"Yea," Justin smiled, looking over the rendition of himself, face turned away; he hadn't been the point of this painting.

"And that guy you're with?" his mother asked quietly, a faint tone of dread in her tone Justin was sure he shouldn't be hearing.

"That guy in my sketch books, Brian," Justin replied, studying the outline and colours he had chosen to express how Brian made him feel. "I met him again at the Diner last week. I mean, I mean I met him again because the guys tell me I knew him but I don't remember. They said we weren't close but when we met last night, I felt like… I don't know. Like I really did know him, like I know him really well." He chuckled at himself, "And yet at the same time, I have no fucking clue who he is. Weird, huh?" He turned to his mother, startled to find her staring at him with the most worried expression in her eyes. "…mom?"

"I'm sorry, Justin," she murmured, brow wrinkled and looking distressed, "I just…" she blew her breath out suddenly and said, "You did know him well, maybe as well as all the others. But he's dangerous, sweetie. I know this might only make you want to talk to him more but you were the one who distanced yourself from him. He hurt you."

"But…" Justin wanted to deny that Brian would ever hurt him. He could never picture that graceful man ever raising a hand against anyone unable to defend themselves. But then that thought from earlier added up suddenly in a way that he didn't like at all. "Did I sleep with him?"

Jennifer froze, looking stricken.

"Oh." He sullenly studied what he'd painted feeling hurt and hating the new dischord in himself, the imperfection and confusion in his emotions, sadly thinking it'd been a good thing he'd gotten the feelings from last night out and onto canvas before they were tainted. "I guess that's how he hurt me, huh?"

Disappointment clenched hard in his chest. Whatever it was that had happened, the fallout had been massive enough for his mother to look like that.

The fuck 'em and leave 'em kind, Ted had said.

Shit.

Looking helpless, Jennifer reached out and held him, pulled him into her embrace and cradled him there, "I'm sorry, honey. Please be careful. After everything, I just can't stand the idea that you would ever be hurt again." She huffed a humourless little laugh, "I'm actually glad you don't remember what happened. So please just promise me, just… please. Just this once. Promise me you'll try to keep to your real friends?"

"I promise," Justin agreed easily, surprised by his mother's passion on this. He remembered the odd way Ted and Emmet had spoken of Brian, briefly and without much detail, and the way Daphne didn't like discussing him either. It added up to mean only one thing; they knew how Brian had hurt him and they didn't want that to happen again.

They cared.

And whatever it was, it must have been one hell of a fuck up if no one, not a one of all his friends or his mother, had tried to explain this to him.

--

Candles lit on Gus' birthday cake, Lindsay grinned widely as she jogged Gus in her lap, "Make a wish, sweetheart."

"I want a new job, I want a new job, I want a new job," Ted muttered nearby.

"Not you!" Emmet admonished and Justin grinned from his seat on the grass.

"He's too young," Ted protested, "And I really need it."

"Well, if I had a wish," Justin put in, "I'd wish you could find a job."

"See?" Ted pointed out to Emmet, "He understands."

Rolling her eyes, Melanie smiled, "One, two, three…" She and Lindsay helped Gus blow his little candle out.

Justin joined in with the cheering, clapping before Melanie stood up and gave her thanks to all their guests. When Debbie shot her back for it, laughing her cackling laugh, Melanie ordered everyone up to grab their plates before the ice cream melted.

"What's with Michael?" Justin asked, nudging Ted with his elbow, indicating where their friend had gone to sit in a swing.

"Probably getting himself out of his rut," came the dismissive reply. "Uphill out of that hole he dug himself is more than a little slippery."

"Is he okay?" Justin asked, concerned, following Debbie's progress after her son.

"He'll be alright," Emmet piped in. He smiled gently at Justin, "You're such a sweetheart, worried about him and all."

"Compassion doesn't cost a thing," Justin shrugged. "Whether I remember our friendship or not, he looks like he could use a friend."

"He's got us," Ted affirmed. "But for now, he needs his mom to whip him up a good 'no feeling sorry for yourself' lecture. We'll take over the rest later."

"Aww," Justin teased, leaning in closer and giving Ted a squeeze about the shoulders. "Now who's the sweetheart?" He noticed Ted glance past him over his shoulder and startled inside to realise Ted had given Brian a helpless look.

What the hell was that all about?

Later when it came time to open the toys, Justin crouched over in the grass beside Emmet helping get all the presents in order. He laughed along with everyone at all the pretty toys and gifts, marvelled at the thoughtfulness of some and coughed into his hand trying to stifle his laughter at others.

Then Lindsay opened a brightly-wrapped box and pulled out a little yellow toy bat;

"Oooh," she cooed. She angled her head over her shoulder to Brian on the front stoop, "You see? Your son's going to be a baseball player!"

"Yeah, well," Brian sourly replied, "If you make a man out of him, I'm going to hold you personally responsible."

Justin and Emmet leaned on each other as they laughed. But when Justin thought he should have caught his breath, his chest felt tight, eyes glued to the waving bat, feeling uncertain and frightened. A blossom of pain exploded in his right temple and he winced, shapes and scenes twisting in front of his eyes and he screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head to try and dispel the ghosts.

"Sweetie?" He heart Emmet's voice, distorted and distant.

"What's wrong?" Melanie sounded just as worried, her voice also twisted somehow in the roaring in Justin's ears. "Justin?"

He cringed at the sound of loud tapping like running footsteps, harsh and impossibly echoing— _"Justin!"_

That sounded like Brian but it came from a distance and had a strange echo as well as a tone of panic. That couldn't be right… footsteps didn't echo across grassy ground and why would Brian be panicking…?

Justin hunched and curled in on himself, pulling his arms tightly to his body, the world tilting suddenly around him—

"Justin," said a soft voice, threaded with tension and worry, arms wrapping around him, pulling him up into a safe hug, his fear drowned away by the scent of vanilla musk.

"Brian," Justin murmured quietly, breath still tight in his throat, eyes still shut, shaking and tense. He wound his arms tighter around Brian, felt Brian's hold secure him in a bit more in reaction.

"Let's get him inside," Emmet suggested, sounding worried.

Pulled along in Brian's arms Justin held on.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_**Part 7**_

"What the hell happened?" Jennifer demanded a split second after she opened the door.

"Subconscious shock," Brian spat, leading Justin inside. "Saw a baseball bat and reacted badly."

"Justin?" His mother sounded worried but he had no words to offer her, his head pounding. He felt shivery and tense, wondering what the hell had gone wrong with him.

"Mom," he muttered weakly. He could hear that loud tapping of running footsteps again and he tried to shake his head to clear the distant sounds away. "Just need to lie down."

"Shouldn't we take him to a hospital?" Jennifer demanded, trying to help her son but Brian had Justin flush up against his side and didn't need any assistance.

"I called a specialist on my insurance hotline," Brian shot back, arms tightening around Justin when he flinched at the sound, and Brian lowered his voice, "She said Justin's having a kind of panic attack, that he needs to be somewhere familiar, somewhere he feels safe." He paused oddly before saying, "So I brought him here to ride the episode out."

"Want to lie down," Justin mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut at another wave of pain flashed through his skull.

"Honey," Jennifer begged, following as they led him in, "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me—"

Justin gasped;

"_Tell me."_

"_Just some heathen ritual called Studs n Suds."_

"_Studs n Suds? What's that?"_

"_Well, first they flood the dance floor at Babylon with soap suds…"_

"…_then everyone strips down to their undies—"_

"—_or less, and dances! Cheek to cheek!"_

"Sounds awesome," Justin murmured, arm tightening around Brian, other hand gripping his forehead.

"What does?" Brian asked quietly, his tone implying he'd heard every word but wanted to be sure of what he'd heard.

"Ted and Emmet talking about Studs n Suds," Justin sighed, eyes still shut, following blindly along as Brian guided him –who'd gone tense at the words. He lay back as Brian did because they still had their arms wrapped around each other, his head resting on one of Brian's shoulders. Justin mused, "I wish I could have gone. Did I go? I don't remember."

After a long silence, Brian finally said, "No. You didn't go." He stroked a hand over Justin's hair and Justin could feel himself falling into the darkness, Brian's voice fading, "You had someplace else more important to be."

--

"What the hell?!"

His mother really should learn to calm down or she'd give herself a coronary before she turned fifty, Justin thought groggily, pushing his face into his pillow. With a half smile at his own humour, he rolled over and blinked his eyes open, listening, trying to wake up. He dared a peek out at his surroundings and found himself in his room. The window curtains had only been half-shut and he could see the sun had just begun to set, and a light shone under his door from the hallway.

"He said that?" Emmet asked, "He asked 'studs n suds, what's that' are you sure?"

"I heard him," Brian stated firmly. "Sounded kind of familiar…"

"It should," Emmet sighed.

"Well?" Jennifer prodded.

"It's from a conversation we had at Woody's last year," Emmet said slowly. "You remember, Brian, you were there. Ted and I were telling him about how they flood Babylon with soap suds, strip down and dance… you know."

Brian asked tersely, "Do you remember what he said after that?"

"He said…" Emmet paused to ponder that a moment then answered, "He said 'sounds awesome' I think."

There was a long pause. "That's exactly what he said tonight before he asked me if he'd gone. Jesus, I thought was imagining things."

"So you do remember that conversation," Emmet grumbled.

"A flashback?" Jennifer asked, her voice apprehensive and Justin could just imagine her wringing her hands.

"Must be if he's repeating the conversations like that," Brian muttered. "Shit. Should we take him to see someone?"

"I can take him to his doctors tomorrow," Jennifer said, voice going tense. "He has an appointment with them anyway; three times a week."

"Baby's still seeing someone?" Emmet asked softly.

"He has nightmares," Jennifer admitted quietly. "They're mostly vague things but sometimes they're stuff Daphne says actually happened, little memories and things. The doctor says it's his subconscious trying to string the parts all back together."

"It's probably a huge strain on his mind to only know parts of things and not know how it fits into his life," Brian murmured, sounding agitated.

"Well," Jennifer spoke up briskly, "That's fine. We can sort it all out with the doctors tomorrow." Her tone held a firm note of dismissal in it and Justin could clearly tell she wanted to get these people out.

"Is there…" Brian hesitated, voice soft and hesitant. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Why do you even ask?" Jennifer said on a suddenly annoyed tone, "It's not like you care."

Emmet protested, "Mrs Taylor…"

"No," she cut in and sternly said, "_You_ should just keep to what you've been doing and stay the hell away from him."

The hallway fell silent and Justin thought his mother and Brian would be glaring at each other right about now.

She sighed, "Look, I… I know that… Brian, I know that you were there, every night, watching over him." There set in a pregnant pause at the same time Justin's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at hearing that. "The nurse on night duty told me. I want to thank you for that. But he's home now, safe and sound. I'll take care of him."

"Mrs Taylor," Emmet spoke up again, "We all love him and we're just worried. Even you know this big asshole here," he gave a snort of a laugh, "cares about Sunshine."

Jennifer snapped, "It was because of him that Justin was almost killed!"

Dead silence descended in the hallway and Justin stared at his bedroom door in shock. What the fuck..?

"Forgive me for being so blunt," Jennifer said quietly. "I've tried to accept him for who he is, to accept your world and that he's part of it." Her voice began to shake and Justin tried to sit up, to go to her, because he couldn't stand the sound of his mother crying. "But as a result I nearly lost him and I don't intend to lose him again…" her voice fell out from under her and the words faded. "I just want my boy back." With a voice shaking and breaking she managed to say, "And tonight seeing him like that when I opened the door—"

"_When he opened the door..."_  
_"... and just saw him standing there."  
"Zack O'Toole is supposed to have a twelve-inch dick!"  
"How do you know who Zack O'Toole is?"  
"Everyone knows who the 'Man-rammer' is."  
"Even schoolboys?"  
"That's part of the curriculum. Gay Porn Stars 101."  
"Yeah and here's the first lesson: those that can, do—"_

"And those that can't, watch porn," Justin murmured, surfacing from the dream, pressures of pain thumping behind his eyes in time to his heartbeat. He groaned when his head gave an almighty throb and curled up on his side, folded up in on himself, hands clutching his head, almost nauseous from the pain.

"What's he talking about?" His mother sounded a little frightened. From her voice, he sensed she'd taken the little stool at his bed side.

"Christ," muttered Brian, "Of all the conversations to remember." Justin remained curled on his left side facing the edge of the bed and placed the source of the voice to be somewhere above him to his right, maybe bending over the bed.

"What's that one about?" Emmet asked, sounding very curious, his voice a little further back, high enough to still be standing.

"The night Michael and Ted hooked you up with Zack O'Toole," Brian answered blandly.

"The porn star?" Jennifer demanded with a sharp voice.

"You know who Zack O'Toole is?" Emmet asked, astonished— at the same time Justin did.

"Geez, mom!" Still in pain and his eyes shut, Justin laughed breathlessly anyway, "I can't believe this. What the hell have you been up to?"

"Honey, are you alright?" she asked instead. Justin could feel her run a hand through his hair and press into his forehead; he whimpered at the cool touch of her hand. "Goodness, he's burning up. Emmet, could you…?"

"Already on it," Emmet's voice led away to the door, footsteps heading out into the hall.

Justin swallowed with difficulty, scrunching up his face at his parched throat. Immediately he could hear his mother fumbling with the water jug on his bed side table.

"Here, honey, drink this."

Justin groaned, another avalanche of pain drowning out the world and suddenly—

"_Here, drink this. It's a secret recipe my alcoholic grandmother used to make."_

"_Jesus, it smells like a… dirty jockstrap."_

"_Well in that case, you should like it."_

"_Ugh! The secret is: she pissed in it."_

"I'm just trying to help you," Justin sighed. "You know I'd do anything." He chuckled, grumbling under his breath, "It so did not smell like a dirty jock strap, Brian. I mean, I know it smells foul but really…"

"Shut up, you little shit," Brian said but in that tone it sounded more like an endearment. "It tasted like you'd marinated your dirty gym socks in it."

"Big fucking deal if I have smelly feet," Justin retorted before groaning and clutching at his head again, pulling his knees up a little higher but he encountered an obstruction –was Brian sitting on his bed? "I'm a growing boy and my hormones are still stabilising."

"Bullshit," Brian said but Justin could hear a smile in his voice. "You just forget to wash between your toes all the time."

"Where is Emmet?" Jennifer muttered. "He'd better hurry—"

"—_hurry up."_

"_What's the rush?"_

"_I've got a stupid curfew, can you believe it? My parents want me home by midnight."  
"You live with your parents?"  
"Where else would I live? I'm seventeen."  
"Seventeen? So how did you get into the bar?"  
"Fake ID? I don't tell my dad, though. Like, he goes totally psycho… like he did when he found out I'm gay."  
"Your dad went psycho?"  
"He went after the fuck I was fucking and turned him into the police."  
"The police?"  
"He'll be out in ten years. If he knew I was here…"  
"How would he know?"  
"Oh, there's no way. Unless I told him."  
"But, you wouldn't do that, would you?"_

"Of course not," Justin mumbled, panting, fingers scrabbling at his head at the pain he couldn't just reach in and pull out. "I would never do that… provided you do something for me." He laughed at the memory, "What a schmuck."

"You fucking little twat!" Brian exclaimed, his weight on the bed jumping a bit, a hand grasping tightly at Justin's shoulder.

"Don't you talk to my son like that," Jennifer snapped. "And let go of him!"

"So did Kip do everything you ask?" Brian ignored her to ask on a rough tone.

"He was more than happy to," Justin chuckled softly, almost whispering now, the throbbing in his head nearly causing him to cry out. "Called me names and nearly lost it but he wouldn't touch me after he saw my high school ID. Idiot."

"You're the one who got him to drop the law suit," Brian murmured, sounding both shocked and very annoyed.

"Out of the way, Bri," Emmet's voice cut in.

Justin jolted at the cool touch of a wet cloth to his forehead, trying to remember what he'd been saying. Instead, he groaned in pain and passed out.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_**Part 8**_

"It was last night!" Justin shouted, control over his temper melting into helplessness… the same quality he'd been feeling as he thought about the person he'd used to be, the Justin people knew and missed.

"You heard what the doctors said," Jennifer stated as she led the way into the house, back from the doctors, frustrated but trying to maintain her calm. "I can't discuss this with you."

"I heard what you all said." He chased after her into the kitchen and argued, "I heard what you said about Brian being there! About the flashbacks and how you said it was his fault I got hurt!" He snarled, "You can't just tell me you didn't say any of that like the entire conversation never happened. I want to know the truth!"

"Justin…" she hesitated, looking regretful and pained, "I can't."

"You told me this morning on the way to the hospital that if I explained to you what happened, what I remembered in my flashbacks that you would talk to me about what happened last night!" Glowering he snarled, "You can't tell me you forgot that, you're not the one who got a bat to the head."

"If I'd known what it was you were asking then I wouldn't have made that promise," Jennifer explained, getting frustrated, not the least bit amused by the dark reference to his attack. "You have to believe me when I say I'm just trying to do what's best for you." Justin scoffed in disbelief. "I'm your mother, you can't honestly think that I would want to hurt you, would you?"

"No," Justin snapped, turning for the stairs to head to his room, "But I can believe that what you think is good for me might not be at all."

"Justin," she begged, "I'm sorry. But get some rest. After these last few days, you could use some good sleep."

"Yeah, my mother's being a total liar," Justin bitterly mused as he started up the steps, "I'll get some great sleep tonight."

"Jesus, Justin!" Shaking her head, Jennifer gave her son a frustrated glare. "I'm doing my best!"

"And you're doing an amazing job!" he snapped back on a sarcastic tone, just as he got to the top.

She yelled from downstairs, "You're not the King of this household—"

"_Hail to the King!"_

"_What a night!"_

"_So how was he?"_

"_He had the greatest ass. I brought him back and I fucked him all night. I think my dick's going to be sore for a week."_

"_That's enough."_

"_Actually, I'd like to hear more."_

"_Speak slowly and enunciate."_

"_He gave great head. He wanted me to fuck him with my crown on, it was kind of kinky. After a while though, he got really clingy. He wanted to know when he could see me again."_

"_So what'd you tell him?"_

"I told him that he could see me in his dreams," Justin whispered into his hand. He blinked in shock to find himself on the landing floor, hand on the banister, his mother dashing up the steps.

"Justin?!"

"I'm fine," he said, scrunching up his eyes and cradling his head against the thumping pain. "Another flashback, that's all. I'm okay!" he shrugged her off and got up, heading for his room.

"What did you see?" she worriedly asked.

"Do you really think I'm going to tell you now?" he snapped as he shut the door.

--

"And that was it," Justin finished on a snarl, pacing the apartment floor. "After everything she promised, she just clammed up. It didn't fucking help the doctors had told her all over again not to tell me any more about my forgotten life."

"Calm down," Michael ordered from the couch, as firmly as he could but looking too adorable and not at all believable. "And sit down, you're making me dizzy."

"Oh fuck that," Justin snapped. "You tell me how I'm supposed to face my past without any one saying any thing. Even Emmet refuses to tell me more than what I could find out searching Google!" He grimaced at the look Michael shot him, "You know what I mean." Then he paused in his pacing, rubbing a hand over his forehead and wearily asked, "Where is Emmet anyway?"

"Out at one of his in the buff jobs," Michael murmured, angling his head over a shoulder to squint at Justin. He scrunched up his face and admitted, "I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually a little envious."

"I'm sorry I'm being such a rotten friend," Justin sighed as sank down onto the couch beside his friend. "Here I am ranting away and you have to go back to work at the Big Q. Not exactly a nice way to get your life back."

"I feel kind of lucky I even have a life to go back to," Michael muttered, "I mean, you don't know what yours was like. It's like you said, you've just got nothing."

"So," Justin started hopefully, "Can you tell me anything? I remembered another conversation last night. It's from the diner." He quickly relayed the conversation he'd remembered.

"Geez, Justin," Michael laughed. "That's from the morning after the King of Babylon contest. You got up on the stage and did a wild pole dance number to High School Confidential by Carol Pope," he grinned brightly, "And won!"

"Holy shit," Justin muttered, collapsing sideways into a couch pillow in mortification. "Somehow hearing Emmet's brief version didn't make it sound so raunchy."

"Oh it was raunchy, alright. Or you could say dirty and kind of illicit, in fact." Michael continued excitedly, "Appropriate song choice, too, you were still in high school. I had no idea what you were thinking but you were really good. There was this one move where you jumped up and spun round the pole, and right when you landed you started gyrating into the pole with your head thrown back." Chortling, he added, "I swear the entire club howled at that."

"No," Justin laughingly pleaded, voice muffled, "Don't tell me anymore!"

"You stripped all the way down to your underwear!" While Justin groaned, Michael gleefully continued, "And you looked so happy when you won. You got a thousand bucks and a round trip ticket to the Bahamas."

Justin sat up in a shot, "Really?!"

"Yeah," Michael grinned. "You cashed the tickets, though. You were kind of broke. But you paid off the rest of what you owed on Brian's credit card so that was a good thing."

Fighting the urge to hug Michael or even kiss him, Justin tried to remain calm and quickly distracted him, "So did I meet a lot of guys after I won?"

Laughing, Michael seemed oblivious to his slip, "Yeah, you sure did. You stole Brian's trick right out from under him. That's who we were talking about… in the… diner…" He trailed off, eyes going wide, looking suddenly nervous. "Shit, I didn't mean—"

"No," Justin cut in, watching Michael bury his face in his hands. "That's more than anyone has told me in a while about stuff I've done." He shrugged, "Emmet had to tell me I'd been tricking so I wouldn't get freaked out by all the people who seemed to know me at Babylon." He nudged Michael with a shoulder. "Come on, how weird would it be to have some guy I've been to bed with come up to me when I still think I'm a virgin?"

Michael looked up at that. "You don't remember…?"

"The first time I set foot on Liberty Avenue," Justin clarified, "The first guy I dated, my first kiss, my first time. None of it."

"Shit," Michael muttered, looking rather horrified. "That sucks."

Angling him a sarcastic look, "You think?"

Michael worriedly pouted, brows furrowed as he considered everything Justin had said. He slowly said, "You know, before your prom, the guys and I had really just gotten used to you being around." Justin sat back to listen, flashing him a grateful look. "We sort of expected that you'd just be around for a short time but you… you chased us down. Well, you chased Brian down."

Justin stilled. It suddenly occurred to him that Michael had only just returned from Portland and might not be quite up to speed on All the Things to Not Tell Justin.

"You… uhh," Michael paused, hesitating. "I don't think you ever told Brian you loved him, but you were there all the time. You insinuated yourself into our lives." He chuckled lightly, "We weren't close yet, the guys and I were still sort of just finding out about you. And you were still busy with school too much to really get to know us." He smiled kindly, encouragingly, "But I think… I think we were getting there."

"Just the beginning," Justin murmured, "The beginning of the rest of my life."

"Yeah," Michael flashed him a smile. "You got burned a number of times, though. I yelled at you for trying to patch things up between me and Brian when we got into a huge fight on my birthday."

"But did my nefarious plan work?" Justin laughingly asked.

"Yeah, it did, you shit," Michael retorted, smiling. "And you gave Emmet hell when he tried that weird See the Light cult about turning himself straight."

"What the hell?" Justin gasped. "Emmet, our beloved Queen, tried to walk the straight path?"

"Yeah," Michael recounted, "He joined some weird group called See the Light, some counselling group that helps people turn straight."

"But that's impossible," Justin said, puzzled. "A lot of the psychological studies done in the last twenty five years state that a person's sexual orientation is determined by the—"

"—age of six," Michael finished. He smiled, "Yeah, you said the same thing the night you found out what he was doing. He wasn't too pleased when you told him, though."

"I bet." Justin laughed and sat back.

"Then there was Brian's thirtieth birthday," Michael recalled. "You helped us plan a bit of that and it blew up in our faces when we found out the job he'd applied for in New York had fallen through."

"New York?" Justin demanded.

"Yeah," Michael rubbed a hand over his face. "He didn't say anything specific but he was really excited about it, said he'd be moving up in the world and getting what he deserved. New York was all he could talk about for weeks." He sighed, "That was around the time David asked me to move to Portland with him."

"Man, you two were abandoning us all," Justin jokingly accused, trying to lighten the mood because Michael suddenly looked rather sad at those memories.

"Well, I came back," Michael said. "But Brian never got to leave. I wonder if he would still want to leave if given another chance."

"Something tells me," Justin thoughtfully put in, "That Brian's not a second chance kind of guy. I think… I think it takes just letting him down once for him to decide his change of course himself."

Michael gave him a long look, "How do you figure that?"

"I read something I wrote down," Justin admitted, "It said, 'no excuses, no apologies, no regrets –Brian' and I figure that the kind of person who says that isn't the type to wait for fate to bring him chances."

Nodding, a smile forming on his lips, Michael agreed, "Yeah. That sounds just like him." He thoughtfully pondered the words, staring down at his hands, "Maybe that's why he's pulled himself away from you."

Justin just stared, not certain what to say and not wanting to break Michael's little thinking trance.

"Almost losing you must have shocked him," Michael mused softly, wringing his hands as he stared down at them. "So soon after his Dad died was bad enough but watching your bashing as it happened to you and not being able to do anything, seeing you like that, knowing you almost died, going home covered in your blood. It must have really messed with his head."

Unable to resist, Justin put forward a little of what he knew, "My mother told him she thinks it's his fault I was attacked."

"What?" Michael's head shot up, "She told him that?"

"I heard every word," Justin confirmed. "I couldn't believe she'd say something like that to him, though."

"Geez," Michael grumbled, indignant on his best friend's behalf. "What's she thinking? That could have happened to you no matter who you were seeing." With a snort, Michael shook his head, "After all this time, she probably still thinks you're her sweet, innocent little boy—"

"—_sweet, innocent little boy. They're not ready to think of you sucking cock and takin' it up the ass."_

"_Ma! Do you have to be so graphic?"  
"Michael, I am making a point. Would you please not interrupt when I'm talkin'? So what was I talkin' about?"_

"_Something about—"_

"—_sucking cock—"_

"—_taking it up the ass."_

"_Right. So. They're not ready to see you as a man, especially a gay man. They need education to know what you're going through."_

"_What about what I'm going through? You know, his father almost broke my fucking ribs. I should have him arrested."_

"Leave him alone, you've done enough damage," Justin whispered, clutching his head.

"Justin!" Michael gripped his shoulders.

"Don't yell." He tucked himself in a little more, eyes clenched against the pain. "I just need to ride this out. I'm fine."

"What the fuck happened?"

"Flashback," Justin murmured. "Give me a few minutes. It's okay."

Only it was so not.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_**Part 9**_

"_To Judge Bruce."_

"_And Dr. Bobby." _

"_Congratulations." _

"_Ten years of fidelity."  
"Happy anniversary!"  
"Where's Jamie?"_

"_He said he's stuck in surgery."  
"Oh, I'm sure he's operating -- on some boy!"  
"At Club Sodom!"  
"That awful place?"  
"Where they dance and take drugs."_

"_And have sex… so I've heard."_

"_It's a shame Jamie has allowed himself to become a stereotype instead of a role model for the community."  
"Hopefully one day he'll come to his senses and realize that his time can be spent on so many more productive ways."_

"_Like joining our gay men's reading group."_

"_Yes!"_

"_Last week we read Sylvia Plath. And this week, Jane Austen."  
"That's the best anniversary gift we've ever received."  
'Gay as Blazes will be right back.'_

"Are they fucking kidding me?" Justin muttered, slumping back on the couch with a grimace. Beside him, Daphne's expression went from disbelieving horror to grinning hilarity.

"Oh my God," she gasped, breaking out in giggles. "What the heck was that?"

"Supposedly," Justin said dryly, "If you believe The Times, the most accurate portrayal of gay life ever shown on television." Daphne simply collapsed into laughter and he raised an eye brow at her, "I'm glad we share the same opinion."

"That's insane!" she howled. "Where's all the kissing and groping? Or the…" she blushed, "the nakedness and dragging people to the back room?"

Justin tilted a look at her, "You know an awful lot about what happens in a gay man's life, missy."

"Well, you did tell me all the juicy details," she grinned and, pretending to think it over added, "Actually, more like filthy details."

"Oh my God, I did?" He grinned shamelessly at her.

"You even took me to Babylon once or twice." She settled back on the couch, pulling a throw pillow over onto her lap. "And we went there for your eighteenth birthday."

Blinking, Justin raised his brows at her, "Hey, you know, I've never asked that. What did I do for my eighteenth birthday?"

Daphne's smile dimmed and she looked down at her hands before saying, "Well, um, you spent the morning lying in…" a flush coloured her cheeks and Justin figured out the one very good reason to lie in on the morning of his eighteenth birthday that would make her blush. "You were late replying to my Happy Birthday text message, that's how I know. You had lunch at the diner, I think, or at least you did spend some time there because Mel and Lindsay were just leaving when I arrived. Then you and I went out in the afternoon for a movie, got hair cuts and did some shopping. We hit Prance first then moved on to Babylon later that night."

"Prance?"

"New heavy-bass club on Maple street," she clarified. Smiling, "You accompanied me to Prance and I accompanied you to Babylon."

"You bargained with me on my own damn birthday?" Justin laughingly berated her.

With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she haughtily declared, "Of course!"

Justin laughed again then sobered. "Guess you don't know who I spent it all with, huh?" he thoughtfully considered. "I must have gone around spending parts of my day with all my friends."

"Most likely," Daphne agreed, notably reticent on the topic and avoiding his gaze.

Heaving a sad sigh, Justin scratched at the couch. Then he ducked his head in embarrassed longing and muttered, "I wish I knew who I spent my eighteenth birthday with. I mean, I know I was fooling around for a number of months before I turned eighteen but…" He glanced up at Daphne with a hopeful little blush, just wanting to be understood. "You know?"

"Yeah," she murmured. But she looked down at her hands in that way she'd been doing a lot lately, a self-conscious and nervous gesture.

Justin had come to associate it with treading on unhappy territory, parts of his life she knew would only hurt him to know. Usually, he trusted her judgement but things felt so incomplete in his life. And why the hell would no one just tell him about all the bad parts so he could accept them along with the good?

"You know, I'm happy I have you," Justin told her quietly, determination and insane curiosity taking over.

"I know." She smiled genuinely, relief evident in her expression.

"I'm happy to have all these new friends," Justin nodded, thinking of all the great people he now had in his life. "You're all an amazing support system." He angled a look at her sidelong, took a breath and took the plunge, "I just wish everyone would tell me what's so wrong with my life that you all tip toe around certain topics about my life."

Daphne didn't even try to hide it. She had that deer in the headlights look, worried and so _busted_.

"I keep thinking that some of it must be horrible," Justin mused. "That some stuff is just so bad that maybe I'll even think that you all were right to keep those truths from me. But I can't help also thinking that it's my life. That I have a right to know what I've been through."

Unable to meet his eyes, Daphne hung her head and fidgeted.

"Tell me."

"I can't, Justin," she protested, screwing her face up in reluctance and worry. "I know it's your life but—"

"Fuck this!" Justin hissed, suddenly angry and not even sure why, a tight knot of tension tying itself in his gut. "I've got a right to know."

Miserably, Daphne tried to get up and leave but Justin grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Does this have anything to do with Brian?" When Daphne gasped, he knew the truth. "It does, doesn't it? How about this, when did I trip out with Brian's credit card?" Startled, Daphne stared and Justin saw she knew what he was talking about. "What did I do with it?"

"I… I can't—" She wrenched her arm away and hurriedly made for the door, scooping up her jacket and bag with hardly a pause in stride. Justin grabbed her as she made it to the front foyer.

He glared and snapped, "Okay, then how about this? Why was he at my prom?" She began to cry and he snarled, startled, "What the hell?"

"Please, Justin," she begged, "I'm just doing what I think is right. I can't just drop bomb shells on you." She reached and curled a hand into his shirt, "Please, you're still my best friend—"

"_We're still best friends, right?"_

"_I guess."_

"_Well aren't we?"_

"_Yeah. So have you guys done the nasty yet?"_

"_None of your business!"_

"_Oh come on, I tell you everything."_

"_Well, we've fooled around some. He wants to do more and so do I… I think. Only he's a lot more experienced than I am and I don't want to come off as a total freak without a clue."_

"_So practice first."_

"_Nah, I've heard horror stories about the first time. If the guy isn't careful, it can be really painful."_

"_Hm. I was lucky, Brian went real slow."_

"_Yeah well that's why I want my first time to be with someone who knows what it feels like… like you."_

"Damn it!" Justin gasped, clutching his head, doubled up on the floor with his head on his knees. Pain lanced right through his skull trying to find an exit through his right eye.

"Justin! Oh my God!" Her small hands moved frantically over his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He pushed Daphne away, partly out of anger but also out of discomfort and unease at her touch. "Don't touch me! Get out of here!"

She gasped on a sob and she had one of the most wretched expressions on her face. But he stared hard at her until she jumped up and left. When the door slammed shut, he breathed, tried to calm down but soon a frustrated, angry howl tore from his throat.

Then the tears came.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_**Part 10**_

"_I was lucky. Brian went real slow."_

Justin stared at the number in his mobile phone for a long moment.

"_I don't think you ever told Brian you loved him but you were there all the time."_

All he had to do was push the green button and ask, 'Why do I have you listed in my call history as the number I most dialled?' And that would be that. Or maybe he could ask 'I remember telling Daphne about my first time and that it was you. Can you tell me about it?' That or ask about the newspaper he currently held in his hands.

"_Brian, I know that you were there, every night, watching over him."_

No, wait. The newspaper would wait. That was, after all, the reason he was on this bus heading to an address he'd had in his phone, wondering what the hell was going on in, around and about his life.

Luck favoured him today; he managed to grab the door before it could close behind someone coming out, took the stairs two at a time, wrinkling his nose because the building was old and, interior-wise, not so well kept and it didn't seem like the place the Brian Kinney he'd met would live in.

Then when he got to the top, he stared at the battered green door wondering how he'd known to come up here, how it was he knew this would be the right apartment. Stepping up, he knocked.

Then something tickled at his mind and so he raised a fist and banged instead.

Loudly.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Brian demanded, a heartbeat after sliding the door open, sounding irritated but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

"I've come to talk to you," Justin said slowly, carefully, trying to keep his temper in check and ignoring the throb in his chest in reaction to how he could make this man look like that, react like this.

"What the fuck for?" Brian asked, making an award-winning attempt at sounding bored as he leaned across the doorway and barring the entrance, but the tension in his face, the defensive air, all gave him away.

And it strained at Justin's temper so that he suddenly glared, gritting his teeth, before reaching up with both hands and shoved hard, sending Brian stumbling back, staring in surprise. "About this, asshole," he followed into the apartment and slapped a folded-up newspaper into Brian's hands, shaped to highlight the article on the bottom half of page four.

_The Wolf in Hero's Clothing_

_By Howard Bellweather_

_Is there anyone less deserving of this year's Gay and Lesbian Centre's Outstanding Award for Heroism than Brian Kinney? Mr Kinney is a miserable example of a modern gay stereotype, totally promiscuous, completely vain, and he can be found nightly in back rooms and sex clubs. As for the young man he rescued from a violent assault, he is in fact Brian's eighteen year old teenage lover. So while we are led to believe he is a hero, the truth is he is a paedophile deserving not our honour but our contempt._

"That's me, isn't it?" Justin accused, furiously tossing the paper at Brian. "The one you rescued. The attack in the parking garage of the hotel—the hotel _my_ school booked for the prom! That was me, when this happened," he gestured at his own head, at the scar just visible at his hairline. "So that's proof you were at my prom. You and God know why because I don't have a single memory of the day. But my mother seems to know a whole lot about it enough to accuse you of the attack being your fault." He paused at the flash of pain and guilt in Brian's eyes, the way Brian froze at the words. "For fuck's sake, it's not." Brian looked away and Justin lowered his voice to sincerely insist, "It's not your fault. I could have been with some other guy; I could have brought a trick. It could have been anyone with me."

"Whatever," Brian muttered dismissively but his shoulders seemed less tense.

"Oh," Justin resumed, gathering back his steam, "Let's not lose focus, shall we? Because that's also the part Bellweather calls me your… your…"

"Lover," Brian blandly supplied, unfolding the paper and giving it a bored look, scrunching his face a bit at it.

"Why did he say that?" Justin demanded, feeling foolish for asking but needing to hear it from Brian's mouth. "Is it true?"

"Do you think it's true?" Brian asked, sounding and looking perfectly weary of the conversation, not even looking up from the paper but Justin could see he clenched the paper in his hands a little too tightly.

"I'm asking you!" Shoving his hands up into his hair, Justin made a frustrated sound. Then he scowled and stepped forward to point an aggressive finger. "You're the first person I went to see as soon as I read that. I'm not going to bother asking anyone else because I know they're going to give me the run around."

Ignoring both Justin and the outburst, Brian turned the page of the newspaper, clearly heading off to read something else. With an annoyed sound, Justin snatched the paper back and Brian finally looked up, hands still poised where he'd been holding it, looking for all the world guilty only of reading the morning paper.

"Aren't you going to tell me anything?" Justin insisted, frowning.

"Like what?" Brian gave him a furrowed-brow look of irritation, dismissive and uncaring… save for the fact his eyes shifted to one side and he moved away to disguise it.

"Answer me," Justin hissed, following into the kitchen. "Did we date?"

"I've only been on one date in my life," Brian smiled humourlessly at the memory, going for a glass and glancing back to give a lazy smirk. "And it wasn't with you."

Justin glared and snarled, "Did we fuck?!" When something startled and a little frightened flashed in Brian's eyes, Justin felt only a little better at confirming the suspicion. "Huh!" he scoffed. "So that's why people are all funny about talking to me about you. They all know."

Something twisted horribly inside him and he paused. Could it be…? He stared at Brian long enough the guy turned around from his drink, the frown smoothed at the sight of Justin's expression and his expression turned concernedly questioning.

And Justin gathered enough voice to ask quietly, a little frightened and very hurt, "Did you… make fun of me? Did you brag about it to them or something? Was I some toy to you?"

"Fuck!" Brian swore, staring hard at him, suddenly hurt and angry but not at him, more like at the words. He abandoned the glass and started forward, scowling, "How the hell can you dare to ask me that?"

"Because I don't remember!" Justin shouted, trembling, scared and he didn't know why.

Silence descended, Brian's expression clearing, looking at Justin with receding irritation and mounting concern, and Justin stood on the verge of losing his composure entirely.

"I don't remember what you were like," Justin growled, quickly blinking eyes gone prickly with suppressed tears. He gave a snort of humourless laughter, "I don't even remember what _I_ was like." He sighed heavily, trying to breath through the thickness in his throat. "I don't know who I first told about being gay. I don't remember how my parents found out or what my father said when he kicked me out of the only home I've ever known, the home that I grew up in." He laughed again and the sound made Brian cringe, "I don't even remember my father kicking me out of the only home I've ever known, the home I grew up in."

Brian looked wretched and hating it. He stood only two paces away, hands gripped tight and his entire body tense in a way Justin would have, if he didn't know better, as a pose to restrain himself from bringing Justin into his arms.

Feeling so very alone, burning tears began to build in Justin's eyes and he quickly blinked them back, "I don't remember who I first kissed, who I first made— who I first fucked!" Voice rising, "I don't remember one God damned thing!"

Brian's head jerked back a little, shocked and uncertain. He looked off to one side before coming back looking annoyed… but worry and alarm glinted in his eyes. On a rough tone, he snarled, "What the hell do you want from me?"

"The truth, damn it," Justin snapped. "I can trust that much from you, can't I? You don't… you are…" He gesticulated uselessly, "You feel like the kind of person who'd tell anyone the truth even if it hurt them because fuck kindness, no one needs help living in denial."

A reluctant smile tugged at Brian's lips at those words.

"Hit me with it," Justin said darkly, shifting, literally bracing himself. "Make it hurt. Make it hurt as much as it didn't the first time you fucked me."

Brian stared, lips parting in surprise.

"No, dumb ass, I don't remember," Justin sighed, rolling his eyes. "I remember telling Daphne about it. Something she said triggered another flashback." He shut his eyes, "I told her I was lucky. I told her you were good to me my first time. But I don't remember shit." Snapping his eyes open, he demanded, "So this time, make it hurt."

"You don't need any more help from me making it hurt," Brian said quietly, eyes shifting restlessly away. He took a deep breath, braced an arm on one of the counters and leaned wearily on it before slowly saying, "I've hurt you more than anyone else." He paused and considered, "Well maybe except your father."

Justin blinked. "Why did I give you that kind of power over me?"

And then it was Brian's turn to be surprised. He hesitated before slowly answering, "You thought you felt more for me than—"

"Let me guess, I told you I'm in love with you," Justin interrupted quickly, watching so closely he caught the flash of hurt in those rainforest eyes –just barely. "Or something."

"Or something." Brian rolled his lips back into his mouth, an odd habit Justin noticed immediately but could not interpret. "You never… quite said the words."

And they stared hard at each other, searching, wary and neither sure they wanted to make the next move.

"I think I knew I didn't have to," Justin murmured as he pressed a hand to his chest, "I don't know who I was but I know how I drew you. I can tell how I felt when I drew you. And even if I didn't have those drawings as proof, my mind might have forgotten all the reasons but my body hasn't."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Brian frowned, shaking his head because he obviously didn't like not understanding.

"You make my pulse speed up," Justin admitted quietly. "You shock me every time I look at you. Like all I can think about is be aware of you and how you move or—"

"That's just lust," Brian snorted, waving his head dismissively, a frown scrunching up his eyes momentarily. He aggressively set his hands on his hips and glared.

"Then I guess that explains why I feel safe when you hold me," Justin caustically said.

Brian's brows shot up, tongue pressing into the corner of his lips.

"It also explains why when I'm about to break down I feel better when I think of how it felt when you held me like you did at Babylon when I was about a heartbeat away from completely losing it."

Brian said nothing, face scrunched up and fidgeting, eyes shadowed with fear.

Shaking his head, Justin laughed bitterly, "God, I'm such an idiot. For whatever reason, I fell in love with you. But I fell in love with a heartless bastard who'd never believe I love him, didn't I?"

Staring, Brian looking startled and wary, head jerked back in surprise.

"That's what everyone's been trying to hide from me; that you didn't want me." Justin slapped the newspaper down on a counter and shook his head, "I know me. I would have fought. I would have tried and tested, asked and demanded. I don't give up easily." He stared hard at Brian, hurt curling in his stomach before climbing rapidly up into his chest, tearing and twisting all along the way. "And each time you must have…"

Brian looked guilty, just for a moment but it was there. And now he looked at Justin with what looked like horrified frustration… amidst a kind of hurt Justin had no idea how to interpret.

Yanking his gaze away from the source of his confusion, Justin nodded, "I get it." His voice had turned hoarse with choked tears and he turned to go, "I get it."

"You don't get anything," Brian hissed, tone rough and breaking.

Did that matter to him? To Brian? Justin wanted to turn around and stay. He wanted to ask and demand, wanted to hear everything. But he also knew he might never feel any of those things again, never enjoy whatever it was that had made him love Brian in the first place.

"All the beautiful things are gone," Justin murmured, just realising the truth himself, only half turning back to speak. Brian stood nervous and a little fearful at the edge of the kitchen, watching and waiting. "All the reasons I fell in love with you are hidden away and you'll never show me those things again, will you?"

"Bullshit." Brian glared and snapped, "I never showed you anything beautiful about me. I was a perfect asshole right from the start."

And now Justin blinked, trying to puzzle that out until the only truth could be, "I loved you for who you are?" He shook his head, "I loved that you hurt me?"

"I don't know why you thought you loved me," Brian admitted, waving a frustrated hand. His shoulders dipped in a fake kind of relaxation, the comfort of lies. He raised his brows as he said in a pseudo flat tone, "I didn't do a God damn thing for you. I never said anything nice to you. I never did anything remotely friendly but you—"

"That's not true," Justin realised, startled at his own words. He turned the rest of the way back around, moving closer, staring into Brian's eyes but also catching the way Brian planted his feet and held his ground –despite looking like he wanted nothing more than to move away. "You're lying," Justin stated, "Or at least not telling me the whole truth. I don't know why but I can tell." He jerked his head back, surprised at himself, "Must be some gut instinct left over from winning arguments with you before."

"You never won any of our arguments," Brian testily denied but that thing, that indicator in Justin's instincts flared again.

"That's not quite true either." How the hell he knew, he had no idea, but he knew.

"I'm not fucking lying!"

"I know what I sense from you and that's not the complete truth," Justin stated, furrowing his brows at the man.

Brian angled his head, wrinkling his eyes in an irritated glare, "Fuck you."

"You said you already had," Justin shot back. He shrugged, starting to feel lighter and even –dare he say it—amused? Angling his head in a curious manner, he asked, "Was I any good?"

Brian blinked then seemed to consider the question, glancing at Justin as though judging the merit of the query. Finally in a flat, almost sardonic, tone he answered, "You were alright."

There it was again. And Justin saw the truth in those rainforest eyes, saw the parade of amusement and recognition but more importantly the desire and the… _heat_. Shock washed over him at the sight before he suddenly grinned.

Poor Brian blinked at him, looking quite dazed.

"I was good, wasn't I?" Pride rushed him and a small laugh escaped, the hurt fading and he felt so much better. "I was very good."

"The fuck?" Brian looking away a moment, faintly scowling, "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Justin smiled. "It was in your eyes." He shook his head, watching Brian's frustration mount and further understanding dawned, making him chuckle. "Oh my God, you poor sucker, I'm on to you."

TBC

* * *

_**Author Notes:** Yes, my username has changed. The reason for this is that I am finally trying to get all my online accounts to match up to my name, Andra Sashner, both original and fan fiction work. Pardon me if this startled you all! Thanks for reading._


	11. Chapter 11

_**Part 11**_

If the slam-down of the coffee mug didn't do it, the accompanying glower and growl combo certainly did.

"I had kind of hoped," Justin admitted casually, curling his fingers around the cup, "That I'd be wrong in guessing you're not one for conversation."

Brian raised a condescending eyebrow at him in a sarcastic _ya think?_ Expression, picking up his own mug.

"Still, I'd hoped we could discuss this amicably and come to an understanding." Justin drew a deep, fortifying breath, "I'd just like to start by thanking you for your honesty." He suppressed a glower at the thought of all the avoidance he'd had to endure, "Certainly, not a lot of people have been so forthright—"

"Not everyday someone gets amnesia," Brian grumbled into his coffee looking, Justin thought, rather upset about it. "You got to cut us some slack."

"Sure," Justin dismissed, "But I'm sure anyone can answer direct questions. All this Cloak & Dagger business is kind of a waste of time."

"So…" Brian waved his mug in a circle, lifting his brows in impatience, "What do you want from me?"

"How did we meet?" excitedly, Justin jumped right in.

Eyes dimming and on a flat tone, "Outside Babylon."

"That's not very informative."

"Hi. Going anywhere special? Let's fuck." The words came accompanied by a very sarcastic roll of rainforest eyes.

"…are you serious?"

"Pretty much."

"But we met the night Gus was born, didn't we?"

"…the hell?"

"Something I wrote in my sketch book," Justin murmured, smiling slightly at the memory of his own drawing. "You were holding him and looking like the happiest father in the world."

"Fuck this," Brian muttered, suddenly putting his own coffee cup down. He glared at Justin, "I'm not dealing with this shit." He grabbed his suitcase and made for the door.

Justin hurriedly gulped down his hot coffee, recognising the need for it in his system at least, if he was going to do what he thought he might have to.

"What do you mean, not dealing with this?" Justin puzzled, hot on Brian's heels into the elevator. "Don't you think we should talk?"

"What the fuck do we need to discuss?" Brian calmly returned, pulling the elevator gate down and pressing the button for the ground floor. He looked nonchalant but wouldn't meeting Justin's gaze, adjusting his shiny silk tie, "We fucked. It went well. It's over. The end. What more do you fucking want?"

"The truth!" Justin snapped, irritated. "I deserve to hear why and when and how. And I deserve to know why you keep running away from me."

"That's the problem with pesky flies," Brian commented, scrunching up his face with annoyance, "No matter how much I swat --won't go away."

Justin rolled his eyes at the childish come back, "That should tell you something."

"That should tell _you_ something," Brian returned, turning to look out the grates as they passed each floor. He stood straight and tall… and still wouldn't meet Justin's eyes. "Look. You already sort of know what happened between us, the rest is irrelevant."

"Obviously," Justin muttered, "It's not important at all."

He paused, staring at Brian's profile and wondering at the minute flinch at those words… and what it was that would speak to this man. Obviously self-righteousness and demands got him next to no where. This wasn't going to work and he would need a new strategy.

"Fine," Justin consented. "Off you go and fuck your little boys in the back room and the big men in the board room. Go have your fun; not like you need to worry about anyone else." He ignored the way Brian's shoulders tensed, shrugged and turned to face the grill as well.

A few moments of peaceful silence reigned, Brian tilting and stretching his neck, smoothing his hand over his tie, adjusting his belt, fingers brushing over his jacket—

Bingo.

Justin gave a long and theatrical sigh. "Shame, really. I was kind of hoping to get a whole lot of things straight. Get my past life back, the connections I used to have, the arrangements I'd made." Pursing his lips a moment, he gave Brian a quick side-long look. "It would have been… interesting." A little suggestive smirk curled one corner of his lips.

"Now what are you talking about?" Brian asked testily just as they landed, looking displeased. With himself for asking or with Justin for baiting him, Justin didn't know.

"Well," he stepped forward to lift the gate, "I figured that since I can't remember a damn thing, I'd need some triggers. You know, like the conversations? I thought if you were my first then maybe… you know?" We gave Brian a meaningful look, "I thought we should make nice again. I'd get some triggers and you'd get some... hm, sex?" Justin tried not to blush at his forwardness.

Brian stared at him, head tilting to one side and eyes turning _hot_.

"But there's just my luck," Justin sighed dramatically, stepping off the elevator. "My past _performance_ rated a meagre 'alright' and you're no longer interested in fucking me so I guess that idea's a bust." He pretended to try to smile and end up grimacing instead. Turning to go, he called over his shoulder, "Thanks for your time, I guess."

Brian grabbed his arm.

Eyeing the grip at his elbow, Justin followed it up from wrist to arm, and up along until Brian's glittering rainforest eyes. "Yeah?"

Brian thoughtfully rolling his lips into his mouth… A moment later he magnanimously murmured, "Maybe we can come to some sort of… agreement."

Justin tried not to smile.

--

And he also tried to contain his laughter when Emmet got to the end of his story, falling behind as Emmet, Ted and Michael led the way into heavier pedestrian traffic.

"One minute I'm starching his collar and the next I'm sucking his cock!" Emmet dramatically moaned. "Singlehandedly I have destroyed eleven years of fidelity, that's what I've done. I'm scum. No, I'm worse than scum, I— what's worse than scum?"

"We've all been around enough to know that nobody does anything they don't want to do," Michael stated, furrowing his brows as he walked by Emmet's side. "This Blair sounds like no angel."

"He was," Emmet guiltily corrected.

"And now he's fallen," Justin theatrically joined in.

"Oh… I'm the snake in the garden of Eden, that's what I am," Emmet moaned, tossing Justin a grimace over his shoulder.

"Stop blaming you yourself!" Justin exclaimed, patting Emmet's back.

"No, _start_ blaming yourself," Ted put in darkly. "It wouldn't have happened if you could keep your mind off of sex long enough to think about something else."

"Like what?" the puzzled queen asked.

"Like... going to museum," Ted suggested, "or… reading a book."

"Book...?" Emmet blinked, looking so perplexed that Justin had to stifle his snicker.

"Yes, it's got pages," Ted sarcastically explained, wiggling his fingers, "little words on them, a cover. Allegedly it improves the brain, oh," he glanced up in very fake surprise at the book store they'd come upon. "Hey, they happen to sell them right here. Anybody care to join me?"

Justin stared at the books in the window and the author's name on the covers, the picture accompanying the display. He grimaced, turned away and shook his head.

"No, you keep your hero," Michael suggested, throwing Justin a curious look. "I'll stick to Captain Astro." Ted shrugged and gave a little wave before he ducked into the bookstore.

"Oh my god, I've got to go make diner for Blaine and Blair." Emmet sighed, looking torn. "How am I gonna face them? What am I gonna say?"

"Don't say anything," Michael and Justin pronounced in unison, glancing at each other with a shrug.

On a demanding tone through gritted teeth, Michael additionally instructed, "And for God's sake don't let it happen again." He nodded to Justin then stalked off for the diner.

Justin patted Emmet sympathetically on the shoulder. "Be good," he suggested, and headed off on his own.

A few people stopped to smile and wave as Justin made his leisurely way along Liberty Avenue. Debbie and his mother had warned him his picture had been everywhere after the bashing and he'd become something of a celebrity. His image in his prom suit still gave him jitter-bones; it remained a popular picture with the press surrounding the incident.

He didn't have to head home for another hour to make it in time for dinner, content to stroll down this road he had only just begun to get to know again.

When he felt he'd wandered a little too far down from familiar territory, he turned and crossed the road then headed back the way he came.

The crowd bothered him a little, the presence of so many people innocent and distant but moving too close too often into his personal space. Fairly soon he had to stop and duck into a doorway to get out of the traffic, breath coming a little too hard. Idly glancing across the road he noticed the bookshop Ted had stepped into earlier, saw the books displayed in the window and wondered again if he should go in. He had nothing to say to that man –the guy didn't know him.

The cheery little tinkle of the entry way bell brought him out of his musings and he found himself behind a short queue to the author's desk. Irritation at the liberty that writer had taken simmered in his blood; Howard Bellweather didn't know him.

_Didn't know him._

But neither did he… didn't he?

Yet Justin knew one thing that hadn't failed him –his self-belief. No matter what everyone said, everything he'd felt, everything he'd observed, whoever he was now, had nothing to do with people's expectations of him. He could only be what he knew of himself before and after his memory lapse.

And if there was one thing he did know, it was his own mind and character.

"Hello, young man," Howard Bellweather smiled cordially up at him when he set a copy down before the writer, a plastic and presentable smile that Justin instantly disliked. "How'd you like me to sign this?"

"To Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor," Justin quietly instructed. "Please accept my apologies for what I wrote about you both."

Howard slowly looked up and raised his brows, "I take it you are—"

"The teenaged lover," Justin quoted, smiling humourlessly and waved, "Hi."

Eyeing Justin carefully, Howard said, "It's a pleasure to meet such a brave young man. If anyone deserves an award for heroism, it's you."

"You say very pretty things," Justin observed, feeling a calm descend on his anger. "But you had no right to say _those_ things."

"On the contrary, it was my obligation," Howard contradicted.

"He saved my life," Justin stated through half-gritted teeth.

"He's also stolen part of it; your innocence, your youth," the writer angled his chin up at Justin, staring hard and determined. "One day you'll see he's hurt you as much as your attacker."

Justin stared at Howard, watched a kind of satisfied light shine in the writer's eyes by his silence but then he asked, "What about me?"

Howard blinked, smile fading with his surprise. "…what do you mean by that?"

"I chose to live in the open, admitting my homosexuality to my school and family," Justin clarified. "In your article, you praised me for it. Said I made an example of courage by not allowing myself to remain hidden in succumbing to peer pressure."

"And you most certainly have—"

"So if I choose to be involved with an older man," Justin interrupted, "And that older man clearly has a rather infamous reputation, what does that say about me?" At the writer's confused look, he said, "You clearly pointed out I'm not a child by making the decision to come out of the closet and highly praised that choice. You spoke of what an exemplary person I am, well-bred, straight-A student, fifteen hundred on my SATs."

Howard smiled slightly, opening his mouth, but Justin interrupted,

"And then you indirectly condemned me for _this_ choice." Justin's tone turned sarcastic, "What a horrible selection I've made, haven't I? I chose, of all people, Brian Kinney the –what did you say?—miserable example of a modern gay stereotype. You discredited me." He stiffly demanded, "So to choose such a man, what kind of person am I really?"

Howard blinked, a shade of respect coming to his expression when he slowly answered, "I don't think I can accurately say."

"You have _no_ say," Justin corrected firmly, leaning in closer in emphasis. "You don't know me; you know nothing about who I am. And your aimless attack on a fellow gay man like Brian indicates nothing to me but envy."

Howard's stare turned hard and Justin knew then he'd hit a sensitive spot.

He shook his head with disgust, "I am very sure, Mr Bellweather, that you should never speak of things you know nothing about." Justin stared hard and Howard only shifted in his seat, pursing his lips with irritation but he didn't say anything. Turning to go, Justin fired over his shoulder, "And you certainly shouldn't be writing about them either."

Stepping out into the setting sunlight, Justin shoved his hands into his pocket and started home. A small smile pulled at his lips.

And a twist of pain tugged at his heart.

TBC

* * *

**_Author Notes:_**

_Yes, I know I'm no where near my usual update schedule but I'm juggling four full-time stories at the moment so I can only update one a week. I work forty hours a week, spend nearly six hours a week at the gym, and I manage my household and my three sisters. I am a busy bee._

_I will try to update as often as I can but at the moment, I can only promise one update a week and it will not always be for this story. I apologise, but the "getting published" thing (see my profile for more information) is going to hinder my fan fiction writing schedule a LOT._

_In the meantime, please stick with me. This story is far, far from over and I hope you enjoy the ride. As usual, feedback is greatly appreciated!_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Part 12**_

Moments after sliding the door open, Brian's face crumpled with frustration and he almost-whined, "What the fuck are you doing here again?"

"Aw," Justin sarcastically cooed. "Not happy to see me?" He pointedly eyed Brian's crotch, "Not happy to see me at all?" With a flat stare and pursed lips Brian moved away from the doorway to let him in, Justin doggedly trailing, "Not even just a little?"

Brian rolled his eyes as he turned away, "Shut up."

"Hm," Justin let his gaze wander over the stylish apartment, giving in to the curiosity that'd been overruled by his anger when he'd stormed in this morning. He smiled faintly at the hardwood floors, really liking them, slowly looked over the tasteful, minimalist furniture then stared at the kitchen, his yearning to learn how to cook rising in his chest so that he murmured wistfully, "You have a really nice kitchen." At the silence, he turned to look and spotted an open wound in Brian's eyes before the older man turned abruptly away. He recognised that look. "Oh. Guess I've said that before, huh?"

"You…" Brian swallowed slowly as he made for the counter and sat down. His voice lowered as he lamely finished, "You've said a lot of things." Suddenly restless, he stood and went for the fridge. "Drink?"

"Sure," Justin allowed, watching carefully as he followed to the counter and perched on a stool. He watched Brian pour him some water then tried, "We can skip the pleasantries, if you like."

Brian just shrugged.

"You know I've been through a lot lately," he settled on the white delicate-looking bar stool. "I'm just hoping you can give me even a little something to go on from here." Justin could tell this wasn't going to be any easier than this morning by the way Brian's neck muscles went taut despite having a view only of Brian's back.

But he didn't say a word.

"The doctor said," Justin spoke quietly, "If Chris Hobbs had hit me a fraction of an inch this way," he pointed with his left hand, "Or that way, or at a different angle or even a little bit harder, I'd be a complete vegetable."

Brian silently slid the glass across the counter and almost nervously moved a pace away.

"Or dead." That look of quiet horror on Brian's face didn't deter Justin in the slightest. "As it was he only damaged my cerebral motor strip."

Disturbed but aiming for nonchalant sarcasm, "Is that where they drag race through your brain?"

"No, it's a part of the cerebral cortex that controls motor skills," Justin corrected, already half certain he was been joked with.

"I know what it is, I attended the eighth grade."

Justin jabbed back, "They had to drill through my head to release all the blood."

"Cool." And Brian put his face in his hand in what Justin recognised as an indication of stress… and it made him feel a little guilty.

No, he shouldn't be trying to score, he thought, feeling a little lost because then he quietly remembered, "They say I may never draw again."

"Yeah well," Brian spoke up quickly, staring hard and looking firm, "They're always telling people they'll never walk again, or piss again or… draw again, so that when you finally do you'll think they're geniuses and they can charge you whatever the fuck they want."

And that was that.

Justin smiled slightly at the matter-of-fact and roundabout implication of _you'll be just fine_ and _don't believe a fucking word. _Touched by the concern, he couldn't help but curiously ask, "Why didn't you come and see me?"

Brian stared at the counter top a moment before softly asking, "What for?"

Irritation swept through him at the brush off; he knew Brian cared in his own way, why was this guy making things difficult? "Considering I was in a coma for two weeks, in rehab for a month trying to re-learn how to throw a fucking wiffle ball?"

In lazy but supremely patronising tones, Brian offered, "You know if you want to regain the agility and the strength in your hand, I suggest jerking off several times a day. Works like magic."

"You should have at least called to see if I was still alive," Justin pointedly insisted, hurt at the callous parry.

"I'm sure I would have heard if you weren't." Brian turned away, obviously a bit stung. "Besides I'm not your occupational therapist. I'm not your trauma specialist. I'm not even your goddamn mother sitting there holding your hand. I mean, there's nothing I could have done for you."

"You seem to know a lot about the people who did," Justin observed, watching the way Brian too quickly gave a defensive glare. He let that slide for now, filing the words away for another time and reopened with, "I don't remember anything about the attack. The last thing I remember is having dinner with my family last year, some obscure day in the early months of my school year."

"That's a long way back," Brian murmured, turning wearily away again.

"Yeah," Justin bitterly agreed, "All the way back to when we were still a family." He scoffed, "It's crazy. I wake up after a perfect same-as-usual dinner and into a fucking nightmare." At the way Brian stared at him, he quickly chased, "I don't mean you and the gang, I don't mean that at all. I just mean… my family. We're all fucked up."

A mask slid into place over Brian's features. "I wouldn't know what its like to have a family that isn't."

Justin nodded, accepting this. He quieted a moment in respectful sympathy, understanding Brian probably couldn't relate. "I guess for you it would be like waking up to find Debbie married and moved away, Michael actually still in Portland and maybe just Ted and Emmet hanging around somewhere in full time jobs so you don't see them all that often anymore." He snorted, "Or probably condescendingly babying you because your best friend's gone."

"That _is_ a nightmare," Brian agreed, a sarcastic little smile curling the left corner of his lips –Justin tried not to stare at the way the mask fell away— before Brian turned and headed around the counter to the fridge again, presumably to get his own drink.

"But they said a lot has happened since then. My mom, Molly, Debbie… everyone else from the Diner and… stuff," Justin sighed, continuing. "Them." He took a drink then plunged ahead, "I know you were at my prom."

Brian paused in the act of pulling out a glass.

"I called my school paper's editor-in-chief today," he admitted. "Peter. He and his team were at school preparing some stuff for the new school year opening. He said… he said we danced together. You and I. That it was… well, he said he'd never seen anything like it before," Justin chuckled at the memory of the guy's excited voice. "He went on and on about how it was news-breaking in the history of St James' Academy. One of the other editors grabbed the phone from him, Ashley, I think her name was. She said it was amazing, the way we danced together. She said that we were amazing."

He smiled at Brian, still astounded by the idea this man, this gorgeous man had consented to go to some high school prom and dance with him in front of an entire school of homophobes. The smile widened at the sight of a warm answering expression, slight but there, on Brian's face.

"We were alright," came the soft acknowledgement, a warm touch to his eyes, features relaxing as though looking upon a fond memory.

Unable to help it, Justin grinned. It must have been something to remember if it put that expression on Brian's face. "Shit!" he muttered, "I wish I could remember that."

Brian glanced at him, back in the present, that rare light fading again. Was it his imagination or did the man look… almost wistful?

He pulled his eyes away, not wanting to be caught looking. Nodding, Justin pressed on, "And then I walked with you back out to your jeep and that's when Chris Hobbs came out with a baseball bat—"

"I thought you said you couldn't remember anything," Brian interrupted quickly, suddenly tense and guarded.

"I can't," he shrugged. "This is just stuff the guys at the paper told me. Stuff I managed to pull of the internet. It's like…pft, a story that happened to somebody else."

"Yeah well, I can remember." Brian glowered at the glass in his hands and murmured, "I can remember everything." He set the glass down and rounded the counter again, stepping further along away; distancing himself. From the set of his shoulders, Justin knew not to follow. "He was coming after you with the bat. But he was moving too fast and you were too far away."

Justin stared, amazed at the tone of pained recollection in Brian's voice. Mesmerized, he listened, frightened by the depth of feeling in the soft voice;

"And I ran… but there was no time to stop it." Brian's voice had gone soft and distant, "And then he swung… and it was too late." Here, his voice went suddenly dark and flat, "There was nothing I could do." The tortured anguish in that voice spurred Justin forward even as he heard Brian whisper, "And you just lay there on the cold cement."

"It wasn't your fault," Justin said quietly. He stepped carefully around to see Brian's face, hyper aware of the fragile mood.

At the sight of the torment on Brian's face, Justin couldn't help the sympathetic hurt welling up inside him. What a dreadful moment it must have been to witness what happened; knowing someone you'd been with might have died before your eyes? Cautiously, he reached a hand, pausing briefly before laying it on Brian's shoulder, the touch unfamiliar but… necessary. He could see how much the memories tortured this man.

He gave Brian a brief shake to draw the man's eyes to his own. Sincerely and sternly he repeated, "It wasn't your fault."

They stared at each other for a long moment and then Justin did what he would have done for anyone else and pulled Brian into his arms, trying to convey the honesty behind his words, the lack of blame.

And silently, instantly, Brian's arms came up around him, one hand on the back of his neck in a way no one had ever held Justin before, the other on his shoulder. He braced Brian's head, leaning into him temple to temple, took the weight of the embrace when Brian leaned into him a little, his eyelids fluttering closed as he felt Brian's eyelashes flicker down against his hair, indication the older man had closed his own. The embrace felt right and fitting, the way they naturally leaned into each other a comfort and something familiar… even as his brain refused to recognise it.

All Justin could do was determinedly hold on and resolutely decide his mother had no right to direct any fault to Brian for the attack; Chris Hobbs had damaged more than just him that night.

But between them only Brian had to live with the memories.

--

"Seriously?" Justin smiled and then laughed, "I had no idea!"

"He made fun of it," Melanie grumbled as she stalked past, gathering their things to load up into the car. "Said he'd rather go to the Suck O' Rama at the Tool Shed."

"Brian was just being his usual obnoxious self," Lindsay amended, digging through her purse for her wallet. "Which is also the part of him that hides he's modest and… maybe even a little bit insulted."

"Insulted?" Justin demanded with disbelief, though not as much as Mel who'd asked the same thing at the same time.

"Insulted he should be rewarded for helping you," Lindsay smiled, looking up. "For loving you and doing something any normal human being should do."

"Including living with the nightmare," he muttered, looking down at his toes and feeling guilty.

Lindsay tipped his face back up again, brows wrinkling, "What was that?"

"Brian told me what happened to me that night," he replied softly, "The look on his face, his voice… he's really torn up about it. I knew my mom was devastated about what happened to me but he was right there, you know? He had to watch."

An odd expression crossed Lindsay's face before she asked, "You two talked about it? What happened between the two of you?"

"I told him I didn't remember anything, said I wanted him to tell me," Justin shrugged, eyes sliding sideways, "No one else would."

"I'm sorry," Lindsay murmured after a pause, fingertips gently stroking his cheek, "I just wanted to protect you. We all did, I think."

He bit back the automatic response to deny he needed protection but surely their current thread of conversation would only make him seem childish. He knew. It was just that—"It's hard to know I need protection. Hard to know I'm not safe."

Melanie returned just as Justin spoke, catching his words and she paused briefly in her whirlwind efforts to come over and worriedly ask, "But you know that's not going to happen again, right? There are decent people in this world and you can't let a rotten egg like Hobbs close you off from the rest of the world."

"I know that up here," Justin tapped his head and smiled reassuringly. "It's just taking some time to actually believe it." He ignored the concerned look Mel and Lindz exchanged and offered, "Brian's helping a lot."

Mel rolled her eyes and stalked off but Lindsay smiled widely, "Really?"

"He's been helping with my therapy." Justin smiled at the way her own smile widened further at the news. "He doesn't baby me about anything, he drags me out of the house to walk amongst people, you know, get used to crowds again. There's no bullshit white-washing with him and this. He just sees and talks about it like it's just another bad deal life dealt out."

"You were saying he told you what happened to you?" Lindsay smiled encouragingly but something in her expression went odd again. "He's supporting you through this?"

Justin nodded, "Yes. And his methods work. I feel better hearing it from him like that than I did all the emotional encouragement stuff from the nurses at the hospital." He scratched at his neck, "I wonder sometimes when I got so cold and jaded. Was I like this before?"

Lindsay had turned thoughtful at his words and at the question, she inclined her head, "Well, you were very matter of fact. You used to be dreamier, had a lot more romanticism in you, but by the time of your prom you had gotten a bit more… practical?"

"Disillusioned," Mel interjected, stalking past again with yet another load of paperwork.

Lindsay fired an annoyed look at her partner's retreating back, "Don't mind Mel, she's just irritated with Brian. Again. As usual." She sighed.

"So when's this award ceremony?"

"Tomorrow night," Lindsay replied, "You coming? I can get you a ticket."

"Isn't it a charity event?" Justin asked, "Don't they charge for those tickets?"

"Three hundred dollars," Lindsay waved away Justin's grimace. "But we have a few promotional ones and I can spare you one."

"I don't think—"

"It's a formal dinner," Lindsay said, brushing his shoulder and heading toward the door while Justin followed. "There won't be much of a crowd or anything, it'll be fine."

"You going?" Mel asked, back in the foyer to grab her hand bag.

"I'm going to think about it," Justin allowed. He returned the kisses Lindsay and Melanie gave him before they headed out, smiling and waving as they drove off.

Marching back to the play pen in the living room, he smiled at Gus, "Hey, little man, looks like it's just you and me now." The kid smiled at him, reaching out his arms and Justin couldn't help but pick the little boy up. "You're so cute," he murmured, jogging the child in his arms and for once there tugged a fragile spider string hope and its associated regret at being gay. "I want a son just like you one day."

Gus giggled and grabbed his nose.

--

"Smug, sanctimonious hypocrite," Ted complained. "Who the fuck does he think he is, judging everyone's behaviour?"

"Especially Brian's," Michael put in. Justin swallowed his laugh at remembering how he'd put Mr Bellweather down at his own book signing.

"And to think I just spent twenty-five bucks on his new book!" Ted growled and took a gulp of his beer.

"Maybe he'll use the money to buy rubbers," Michael put in sharing a slight grimace of disgust with Justin at the reminder of what he and Ted had witnessed at the 'BB party.'

Ted hotly ranted, "Is there no such thing as decency left?"

"There was," Emmet moaned, "Until I came along."

"Don't tell me," Michael said stonily.

"Oh my God…" breathed Justin, eyes going wide.

"You did the other one?!" demanded Ted.

"I couldn't help myself!" Emmet weakly defended.

"I'm sure," Justin snickered and Emmet threw him a defeated look.

"What about them?" Michael asked, "You said they were a happily committed couple."

"It's not their fault," Emmet moaned. "Obviously, up against my powers of seduction, they didn't stand a chance."

_I wonder if I ever did_, Justin thought, watching Brian approach. He smiled as he moved aside to let Brian get to the bar, puzzled when Brian caught him around the waist and leaned in a moment… but then suddenly pulled away as though remembering something.

"I'm gonna go." Emmet waved as he let Justin take his seat.

"Oh, hey," Brian said lazily to Michael, "It's just the man I've been looking for. You want to dance?"

With a flat look at his best friend, Michael replied, "I don't feel like it."

Ted and Justin exchanged looks while Brian cajoled, "Come on…"

"I said don't want to." Michael pulled away, forcing himself to stare off in a way that clearly asked for more attention.

"What's the matter with you?" Brian irritably asked.

"You wouldn't understand." Michael was saying. He glared a bit and turned back to bar, a little flounce in the angry tilt of his chin, "And if you did, you wouldn't care."

Justin shrugged when Brian glanced questioningly at him, taking a swig of beer. But Brian paused only for one long moment and, "Fine," before stalking off.

"The convention, asshole," Michael yelled after him. "You were supposed to meet me!"

Brian turned around and sarcastically scoffed, "Is that all?"

While Michael went to go give Brian a piece of his mind, Ted rolled his eyes at Justin and whispered, "Brian and Mikey show, here we go. Aren't we lucky—"

"_You're like, so lucky."_

"_I am?"_

"_Your mom's cool about you being gay. If mine found out, she'd kill me."_

"_At least it gives her a sense of purpose. I mean, without me, she'd be playing bingo instead of organizing pride marches or handing out condoms. Do you need a ride?"_

"_I borrowed a friend's car."_

"_You mean you don't have a little beemer of your own?"_

"_I'm working on it."_

"_Just remember what I told you about Brian."_

"_If he's such a selfish prick then how come you're always following him around?"_

"_I'm not always following him around! We're best friends. We accept each other for who we are. No judgements, no obligations, no questions asked."_

"_You're just waiting for him to finish jerking you off."_

"_What?!"_

"_You never got off. That's why you're still hanging around after all these years."_

"_Go on, chicken, back to your coop! And don't go looking for him, it'll just make things worse."_

Justin put his forehead in his hands, quirking a little smile at Ted when the guy dumped his beer down to put a worried hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine. But tell me, is it just me," he asked quietly, "Or is there something about Michael where Brian's concerned?"

Ted snickered, "Glad to see your perception isn't off. You noticed it pretty quickly back in the beginning too."

"Really?" Justin asked, leaning in. "Coz it seems like Michael actually… well… has the _hots_ for Brian somehow."

"He does," Ted confirmed, finishing off his beer. "I doubt he realises it, though. He knows we've all translated it as unfinished lust but defends it's just a deep and abiding affection for his admittedly good looking best friend."

"Same thing," Justin murmured, turning to watch Brian and Michael argue a bit off the edge of the dance floor.

"That's what I said, too." Ted stood up and grimaced. "I gotta go. I'll see you."

"Hey," Justin grabbed Ted's arm before he could get away, "Can I steal a dance?" He smiled brightly, unable to recall a time he'd ever danced with Ted. "Please?"

"You want to dance with an old unemployed ass like me?" Ted asked, raising a sceptic brow.

Justin just laughed and pulled him to the dance floor… but the laugh faded when he saw Michael pull away from Brian and stalk away. He just barely caught the look of hurt on Brian's face the man tried to cover with fingertips rubbing at his lips.

Well what do you know? He ignored the not so little bite a green eyed beast took out of his gut and thought, _looks like there are some feelings returned there after all._

_TBC._

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_Thank you all for patience as I adjust to my new writing schedule. The going now is a weekly update by rotation for four stories of which New Dawn is a part. So... that translates to an update every four weeks. I apologise for the downgrade from a weekly update but this is the best I can promise for now. Thank you in advance for your patience._


	13. Chapter 13

_**Part 13**_

_

* * *

_

_Too close! _Justin squirmed away, trying to resist the urge to step aside out of the crowd or run to catch up to— "Don't touch me!" he hissed when someone bumped into him, twisting away. The man didn't hear him and Justin grimaced to himself, looking out over the crowd again to find that oddly distinctive brown head he'd been tailing for the past kilometre, trying to pin his sights on who he followed so he didn't have to think about—

_Where'd he go?_ He'd been right there. Heart humping heavily in his chest, trying to keep his breathing steady, he moved a little faster, alarm rising because he couldn't find— _There!_

Just on the block corner, arms outstretched looking firm and patient, a small frown on his face, stood Brian.

A relieved smile bubbled up from the chaos of Justin's confusion and he moved forward again at a steady pace, walking, counting the rhythm in his head, awareness of the crowd swarming around him beginning to slowly dissipate. He didn't even flinch when someone brushed by him, didn't bat an eye when a small group of moving people crossed his line of sight to his target. He just kept walking—

Right into Brian's arms.

"I lost sight of you for a moment," Justin murmured, voice muffled into a high shoulder, holding tight.

"I know. But you did it," Brian breathed into his ear.

"I'm such a loser," Justin joked, a little of his earlier panic still lingering, "I can't even walk in a crowd." When he went out in public, he couldn't stand staying amidst the people for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time, always needing to move aside or duck into the quiet of a store to calm himself back down before heading out and repeating the process.

"Shut up," Brian muttered and pressed a kiss to Justin's cheek as they parted, "You're perfect."

The tension slipped away as Justin laughed, reacting to both the kiss and the words, "Perfect enough to kiss in public? Thanks." He smiled, feeling better, feeling so much more confident, and brushed fingertips over his cheek.

Brain raised a brow, "You call that a kiss in public?"

And his smile faded when Brian leaned in, lifting his chin to meet the gentle touch of a fleeting kiss. Those lips brushed back once more then settled over his, pressing in, fitting over his upper lip, his own naturally folding over Brian's full lower lip, coming together so naturally Justin wondered if they'd really been only a one night stand to each other.

"Whoa," he breathed, blinking his eyes open. A tightness had already coiled low in his abdomen, heat had radiated outward from that kiss… instinctively he knew Brian felt the same.

Brian smiled faintly down at him, eyes shaded by those blasted sunglasses. His voice registered a touch lower when he said, "You don't remember but I happen to love sex in public places."

A laugh bubbled out of Justin and he easily teased, "Then suck me off. Right here, right now, in broad daylight." And he laughed again, this time in exhilaration at having dared to say such a thing to Brian's face.

"Hmm," Brian smiled, "You _are_ recovering nicely."

"Bad as new," Justin breezily declared.

"One step at a time," Brian moved in, leaning in to whisper, "First you walk back to my place. _Then_ I suck you off."

The image that conjured made Justin shiver, and he knew Brian felt his reaction. All week they'd been trading innuendos and suggestive comments… but hadn't done a thing. For some reason, Justin had the feeling Brian was almost _guilty_ to touch him, too uncertain. The pressure built steadily without outlet, and he had no idea how to get Brian to do anything to him yet. His confidence might be building back up but he still had no idea how to deal with this beautiful man. And he wasn't sure anything would happen about _that _proposal but it made a lovely incentive if Brian did mean it.

"Okay," he sighed belatedly, stepping back. "I can do it by myself."

"You can give yourself head?" Brian raised a brow.

Justin laughed, "You take the jeep back. I'll walk it and see you there."

"You're not trying to lose me, are you?" Brian's lips twitched.

"Uh-hm," Justin smiled, "I'm sick of you always following me around." He flashed a grin, "Don't you have any friends your own age?"

"Yeah, but," Brian jokingly reasoned, "None of them adore me as much as you do."

_Michael does._ Justin paused, smile suddenly fading. Unless… well, what if Brian didn't consider Michael a friend… but someone closer. More special?

"Hey," Brian gave him a slight shake, frowning a bit.

He shook his head and pulled up the memory of Melanie ranting about Brian's brush off the GLC awards night and found a smile, "Anyway, you have a big, important fund raiser to attend tonight."

Brian rolled his eyes, "You mean a boring insignificant time-waster, don't you?"

"You're a hero," Justin said quietly, heart burning for Brian all over again. He looked determinedly into Brian's eyes, "No matter what anyone says."

Brian, predictably, looked away. Then he glanced back and pressed a quick kiss to Justin's forehead, uneasy and trying to look casual.

Justin let him off easy by stepping back, "Here goes." He flashed a grin, "Later."

"Later."

--

"Debbie said it was so stuffy," Emmet laughed, setting down his cosmo, "That she needed an oxygen mask."

"That pretentious?" Justin asked over the music of Babylon, making a face. "I'm kind of glad now that I didn't go. But why didn't Brian? I mean, he did the right thing. Told him myself I thought he's a hero." He smiled and shook his head at the red-head making eyes at him down the bar, turning away before the guy got ideas.

"Because he doesn't believe in that shit," Michael rolled his eyes, elbows on the bar, "Brian told me that if you want a hero, you should buy a comic book."

"When did he say that?" Emmet asked, eyes tracking across the floor on some unknown target.

"Earlier when he finally showed up at the Comic Con," Michael replied, sitting back. "I asked him why he wasn't at the award night and he said he thought we had a date." He shrugged but smiled, "Lot of good it was, he showed up fifteen minutes from closing time."

"But you look pleased he showed," Emmet said, smiling softly and rubbing a hand on Michael's shoulder, "You guys had fun anyway?"

"Yeah," Michael smiled, "He was really nice about it. I think he was high or something but he suggested we get a picture. Even if I said it was for kids, he was like, 'come on, Mikey' and I tried to tell him it was stupid but…" A soft laugh escaped, "But he remembered. He said some things about what we used to do when we were kids, reading Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad and how we promised—" He broke off, grinning, "Never mind. I mean. Yea. We had fun."

Justin felt that twist in his chest again. "You guys are really close. After growing up together, things like that don't just fade away, no matter what's changed." He tried to emboss those words into his own head. He'd need them to remind him he couldn't fall for Brian all over again. "Some things don't change."

"Yeah," Michael smiled widely, "I guess some things don't."

Justin nodded and moved away to step out onto the dance floor. As he moved through the swaying, moving bodies, he murmured to himself, "But sometimes, some things do. Some things break. Some things… can never be the same again." And he began to dance.

He danced with partner after partner when they pressed close but dismissed them all minutes later. No one felt right; not tall enough, didn't smell right, didn't hold him the way he wanted to be held, didn't move against him in the way he liked, or made his heart thump heavily in his chest. No one had that mischief in their eyes, that eagerness masked in hesitation. No one touched him carefully, looking for something, a sign that it'd be okay to go ahead, to strip and touch and caress.

No one.

He had wanted Brian to touch him as promised today; the words _'then I suck you off'_ spinning circles in his head. But nothing happened. Some teasing, a few more innuendos, decision to do something next, and he hadn't the courage to bring it up when Brian seemed too disinclined to consummate the relationship. So Justin was left to wonder: had he really seen what he'd thought in those rainforest eyes? Had he really been as good as he thought –not like he could remember, after all. But if Brian refused to touch him even now…?

Justin felt a tear slip free but he danced… right up until gentle fingertips brushed the tear away and he opened his eyes, blinking with confusion.

"Hey," said the blond. "You okay?"

Justin stared, confused.

Recognition filtered onto the blond's face. "Oh. I know who you are." He smiled sheepishly, "Stupid question. I guess nothing's really okay anymore. I'm sorry about… you know, what happened to you."

"Thanks," Justin replied automatically, already putting up defensive walls, the public face he wore where he just tried to be polite instead of telling them they knew nothing about him or what he'd been through.

"Okay," the guy grimaced, catching on anyway, "I guess I should shut up. You wanna dance? I'm not," he waved his hands self-consciously in the air, "I'm not looking for anything. We can just dance. Just…" he sighed, "Don't look so sad, okay? I remember seeing you around here before that shit happened and you were… you _are_ really beautiful when you smile."

Justin paused and blinked. A long moment later, he wordlessly lifted his arms and pressed close, beginning to move, trying to forget and simply be here.

Holding him firmly but gently, protective and concerned, kind without a reason to be, the guy let him.

--

"Pride weekend!" Emmet exclaimed. "Can you feel it, baby?"

"The dancing," Michael put in.

"The parade," Ted added,

"The fucking," Brian blandly contributed. Emmet laughed and Justin rolled his eyes before saying,

"Can't wait!"

Michael glanced back over his shoulder and smiled, "You sure you're up for it?"

"Oh he's up for it," Brian cut in, flashing Justin a quick, sarcastic look.

And Justin wanted not to find the comment suggestive. He told Emmet, "It's my first Pride."

"Careful," Emmet joked, "Pride is a sin."

"Then I'm going to hell," Justin returned with a laugh.

After the chaos of the Diner, Justin got sat down for a quick Godiva Gay History 101;

"Let me tell you," Emmet declared, "Godiva is the world's greatest drag queen."

"Or at least Pittsburgh's," interjected Ted.

"I'd just moved from Mississippi, didn't know a soul and somehow I found my way to Woody's." Emmet smiled at the memory, "I'm standing there and she comes up to me and says," his voice dipped low in imitation, "'You all alone, Sugar?'" Justin shared a laugh with him. "I stood there with my mouth hanging open." Emmet did a little parody and Brian quickly commented,

"Well, things haven't changed much."

Ignoring him with a roll of eyes, Emmet continued, "Then she said to me, 'Well, not anymore. Now you've got Godiva -- just like the chocolate, dark and sweet.' She introduced me to everyone and everything, including my first Pride." A sadness took over Emmet's face. "And now this may be her last."

Justin's smile faded. He'd almost not even made it to his first.

"People make too much out of this Pride business," harrumphed Michael.

"As if you'd even know!" Emmet shot back, "Considering you've never been to one."

Aghast, Justin asked, "You've never been?"

Brian cut in on a flat tone before Michael could answer, "Poor Mikey's afraid he'll end up as the token Pride clip on the six o'clock news."

"Well, I don't exactly see you out there in being in a grand march," Michael shot back.

"We all have our ways of celebrating," Brian blandly replied, "Some people take it to the streets—"

"Other people take it to the sheets," Ted quipped.

And Justin realised just then why Brian had accepted Ted and Emmet; they were resilient enough and practical enough to take his bullshit… and could even keep up with the sarcasm. He wondered if he'd ever really managed to keep pace.

--

Still snickering over how Brian and Debbie had managed to corner Michael into marching in the Pride parade, Justin headed off to therapy, pushing aside the urge to dwell on how easily Brian had done it, how naturally.

"Hi, Dr Bentley," Justin smiled, "How you doing?"

"Hello, Justin," the young intern replied, smiling back, "I keep telling you to call me Gary."

"Gary," Justin repeated, inclining his head.

"And I'm fine, thanks for asking." Gary nodded at the wire loop game he'd just finished setting up. This one was a huge version, longer and taller, taking up a full metre of desk space and a third of that in depth. The objective would be to wield a looped wand over the network of electrified complex and Justin would have to wheel along on a chair to get from one end to the other. "What do you think?"

"It's…" Justin stared at the monstrosity doubtfully but with determination.

"I know. But I think you can do this." Gary smiled reassuringly and meant it, "It's a huge piece, meant to look daunting. But it's good to keep up the high pressure for as long as possible, it'll help to strain your hand, push the limits a little further back. You ready?"

"Yeah." Justin nodded.

"Okay, we'll start with the usual exercises then come back to this, okay?" The young intern led Justin into one of the quiet rooms, a sound-proofed chamber that locked out the world, sat them together inside and took Justin through the stress-relieving practices, calming him down, settling his mind and heart.

Only this time, Justin knew he wasn't relaxing down as he used to. He needed this, though. Needed his temper to bleed away, to focus only on himself or he'd never make it through the two hours of repetitive childishness that was his therapy.

"You're not focusing," Gary gently scolded.

"Sorry," Justin breathed, eyes still shut …but he still couldn't settle down after the second round of exercises.

"Got something on your mind?" Gary asked softly, settling down in front of his patient.

With a sigh, Justin admitted, "There's this guy…"

Gary grinned, "I think I've heard this before."

With a roll of his eyes, "Yeah, well, not from a gay kid, you haven't." And after yet another sigh, "I keep thinking about this one friend of mine people have told me I've slept with. It feels like… like we were closer than just some one night stand." He sighed heavily, "And now I just don't know."

"Ever tried the Pros and Cons paper?" Gary asked, smiling. "Works for me every time. Or you could paint it out and see what you come up with. There's no rush on these things, you know?" He cut Justin off when the young man opened his mouth to speak, "I know you're impatient, I know what that's like. Just… there's not much else you can do right now. And stressing yourself out isn't going to fix it when you need a strong, clear mind to get your answer."

Considering that, Justin let go and cleared his mind. He counted out his breathing aloud again before falling silent to continue in his head. On the final exhale, the tension had gone and he opened his eyes, ready.

"Better." Gary smiled, nodding toward the door. "Let's do this."

--

"You look like shit," Jennifer stated after she'd set her handbag down and looked over her son.

"Thanks, mom." Justin signalled for a waiter and asked for menus.

"You've been out a lot," she said, "I barely see you anymore."

"Therapy's been intense," replied Justin, smiling flatly as he accepted the menu, nodding in thanks. He passed one over to her but didn't meet her gaze.

Jennifer gave a resigned sigh, so heavy that Justin glanced at her before looking back at the menu. "So what's he done now?"

"Excuse me?"

"That face," Jennifer shook her head, "That's the face you made when Brian was being an asshole to you." She sighed again, this time wearily, "Justin, you promised me. You said you'd keep to your friends, your _true_ friends. Hanging around him is just going to—"

"I know," Justin cut her off. "I know."

It wasn't fair! He'd bargained Brian for the triggers, for the sex; they had _agreed_. But Brian wouldn't touch him. They bantered and teased, laid every bit of implication they could in their teasing but… nothing. Just kisses. Amazing, breath-stealing kisses, hands that wandered under clothes without removing them, sure, but that was it.

It was driving him insane.

"I just want to hang around them all because of the flashbacks. Even you have to admit I don't get much at home. There's not much of me there."

Jennifer gave him a Look. But shaking her head, she let that pass and asked, "Have you been 'round to Debbie's?"

"A few times," Justin shrugged, "Not much." He didn't tell her about the one memory it had triggered; _"What the fuck are you doing here?"_ He smiled softly to himself and whispered, "Waiting for you."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, mom." Justin pushed away thoughts of kisses and heading further south on Brian than he was comfortable remembering, and waved for a waiter, "What do you want to drink?"

--

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Justin asked, smiling an apology at the guy he'd been dancing with as he stepped away.

"Have you seen Emmet?" Vic asked solemnly, talking just loud enough to be heard over the music.

A cold fist of dread clenched in Justin's chest, his smile falling of his face. Wordlessly, he grabbed Vic's hand and led him across the floor to where he'd seen Michael with Emmet earlier.

"Vic, what are you doing here?" Michael demanded with surprise and Justin would have smiled at that he'd just asked that same question but the situation killed the impulse.

"Michael, even older gay men can celebrate Pride," Emmet admonished. He smiled at Vic, "Right?"

"Right," Vic agreed quickly, not the least bit amused.

"Just don't over do," Emmet reminded cheerily.

Vic shook his head dismissively, reaching to catch one of Emmet's flailing hands, "It's Godiva."

A rock dropped into Justin's stomach at the words he'd been dreading to hear, Emmet's expression mirroring how he felt at the words. He'd not even gotten to meet the legendary drag queen –Emmet had promised to introduce them at the parade.

Emmet bravely leaned in and asked, "When?"

"A little while ago," Vic answered. "I was visiting a friend over at the hospice."

Emmet face nearly crumpled, his voice breaking when he said, "I was just there, I took her dress."

"Sometimes it happens very quickly," Vic said. He raised meaningful eyebrows, "That can be a blessing."

Justin stared. That a quick death could be a blessing –in more situations than one, he realised— taught him a new fear, a small shiver rushing down his spine.

TBC.

* * *

_**Author Notes: **I'm taking a Fiction Vacation for the whole of next month so there will be no updates in that month. But I will be back to regular every-three-weeks update schedule when I return. Please don't ask me to "UPDATE SOON" because I go by a schedule, okay? Don't forget to share your thoughts and comments, and thank you for your support!_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Part 14**_

Bending over Justin's work on the GLC table, Vic kissed his fingertips loudly, "Michaelangelo!" he praised.

Justin weathered it, knowing his work was rather lop-sided and more similar to his results as a grade school student than where he'd last left off drawing. Bracing his right hand with his left, "I'm getting there. Brain's been helping me with my exercises."

"Yeah, I bet." Michael rolled his eyes. "Squeeze tighter, pull harder."

Brushing aside the sting because certainly nothing of that kind had happened, Justin reached out and painted a quick pink moustache on him. "Hey!"

"Ha!" Justin grinned. Michael scowled and marched off to find something to wipe it off with.

"Big day tomorrow," Vic commented.

"I can't wait," Justin smiled.

"I remember my first march after the Stonewall riots," Vic nostalgically shared. He paused then clarified with a sarcastic wave of his hand, "In the stone age." Justin grinned. "There were no more than twenty-five of us that first year."

Gaping, Justin exclaimed, "That's all?"

"You think coming out's tough now, you should have been around back then," Vic said, brows up.

"Hey guys!" Jennifer called out from behind them.

"Get a load of this!" Debbie said and, together with Jennifer, unfurled the just-arrived PFLAG banner, the GLC erupting in claps and cheers.

"And check this out!" Debbie added, stepping up to Michael and flipping open her waistcoat, "Ta-dah!" 'I'm proud of my GAY son' her purple t-shirt stated. Justin grimaced and could just imagine a similar dread on Michael's face. "I had them made in honour of our first time walking together."

Jennifer grinned and asked, "Isn't it adorable?"

The words froze Justin and he quietly demanded, "Swear to me that you didn't get one." Jennifer just angled a look at him. As he moved over to her to get an answer, he noticed Michael wandered over to the refreshment table, not the least bit subtle.

"Hey… ma, you want a doughnut?" Michael asked.

Debbie near-scowled. "You're not."

Justin left the two to their argument and faced his mother, stating more than asking, "You didn't, right?"

"Even if I'm proud of you?" Jennifer asked, exasperated.

"I know you're proud, mom," he told her, "But it kind of negates the fact that we should be just like everyone else." He shrugged, "Every mom is proud of her son. I'd be proud of my kid."

Jennifer gave a tender gasp, an odd expression flitting over he face, "You'd have a kid?"

"Maybe one day. I like Gus," Justin honestly reasoned. "I like babysitting him so—"

"_If you ever need a babysitter…"_

"_Don't say that unless you mean it."_

"_And if you need any help carrying stuff to the car, I'd be glad to be of assist… tance."_

"_Wow, you're good for a thousand and one uses."_

"Justin?" Jennifer asked, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. They hadn't really made up after the storming argument they'd had about her withholding his past from him.

Rubbing his forehead, he answered, "I'm fine, just got dizzy a moment—"

Debbie came by as she stormed away from her argument with Michael (likely also with the last word), stuck a finger in his face and forcefully stated –not asked, "You better be marching."

"Yeah," he immediately answered and traded looks with his mother. Like he was going to argue with _her?_

--

Quietly and without speaking, Justin helped Emmet pack up the room.

They took down the photographs with celebrities, the magazine shoots, the glamour posters, the tinsel and glittery stars. Down came the framed tiara and gloves from a competition before Justin was even born, the sashes and plaques. A whole lifetime of achievements and decorations put away in cardboard boxes meaningful now to so few, and not even enough to warrant wall-space again.

Justin paused as he closed up one of the last of his boxes, staring as he taped it shut, wondering where the items would go and if anyone would ever find these things meaningful. A dark fire burned his chest at the injustice, at the thought that a life meant something only when one was alive, that a legacy could end up to be so meaningless.

"She was so excited about Pride," Emmet murmured, looking over the outfit Godiva had planned to wear to the parade. "She said, 'Honey if I have to wheel myself out there on a board like Porgy and Bass, I'm going.'" The words made Justin smile. Emmet set a wig near one of the boxes, "She wanted her hair to be the biggest, her gown to be the glitteriest. Just so everyone would know that nothing, not even AIDS, could keep her down." Emmet's smile faded, "It's not going to be the same without her."

"Unless…" Justin prodded, idea blooming brilliantly in his mind.

"Unless?" Emmet puzzled.

Justin indicated the clothes, "Unless you were…?"

"Hm," Emmet smiled, "Honey, I couldn't fill her bra, much less her shoes." He held one up for emphasis. His humour faded again, making his normally bright and cheerful countenance a drab and dark cloud. "Would you mind if I stay with her a little while?"

Justin nodded, understanding, and left the room. Down the steps, passing a caregiver and a resident, thinking that it was just pure luck he hadn't caught anything himself… and wondering how Brian did what he did, so exposed and living dangerously. Surely there were safer ways for men, gay or not, to be the dogs they were?

How could one not see this —he peeked into the common room, saw the people gathered cheerlessly around the television watching afternoon shows, too weak to do anything else— and not think that maybe they should be more careful?

These walls, this place, could be a kind of hell. And Justin turned the corner into a nightmare—

Chris Hobbs.

An echo filled his ears, running footsteps, _"Justin!"_ a voice in panic, the memory of turning to see but there was only another twisted face, a bat swinging up too fast to—

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, going for sharp but failing miserably.

Chris had only just noticed him, face formerly slack now going tight with hate. "Having a blast, time of my life, my five hundred hours of community service, what the fuck do you think?" He nodded upward at Justin, "What about you, got AIDS?"

Justin gathered some of his voice and stated firmly, "No."

"You will," Chris countered, just as steadily. "Sooner or later, all you fags end up here." He made a jerky move, nothing more than to startle –which it did, badly, Justin starting so hard he practically jumped.

Angry at his own reaction, unable to even completely remember the torment this boy put him through, he recovered and snarled, "And sooner or later, all you homophobes will get what's coming to you."

Chris stepped past his mop toward Justin, who stood his ground, and aggressively sneered, "Here I thought I'd finally taught you a lesson—"

Justin gasped, falling back as Chris grabbed him;

"_And here I thought I was finally rid of you."_

"_Not until I say so."_

"_Oh, hoho!"_

"_You can just imagine what your parents will say."_

"_I don't care what my parents say. I've got to do what's going to make me happy."_

"_Spoken like a true disciple of Brian."_

"Get away from him!" Emmet screeched, flying in from Justin's left ripping Chris right off him— huh? Emmet had his fists in Chris' shirt and pressed right up to the wall, hate in his eyes. He shook Chris, slamming the young man's head into the wall with the force. "You keep your fucking hands off of him and off anyone else in this house." He shook Chris again, almost shaking himself with rage. "What the fuck are you doing here, anyway, you don't fucking belong here!"

Some of the caregivers pulled him off, Chris slumping shocked to his wobbly feet.

"He's a homophobe!" Emmet shrieked, tears slipping down his face, "He smashed my friend's head in and got away with it! Get him out of here!"

One of the caregivers looked at Justin, huddled and frightened, then at Chris –putting the pieces together. An ugly look took over his face. All around them, others began to put it together too and Chris looked like he knew he was in possibly the worst place in the world to be.

Justin didn't care. The others had let Emmet go –who dashed to his knees at Justin's side, holding tight.

"Breathe, baby," Emmet soothed, "Look at me. Look at me." He framed Justin's face in his hands, "You're okay. You're fine. I got you. You have to _breathe_."

And it wasn't until then Justin realised he wasn't. Panting, breathless and mindless with panic, he wasn't breathing right. He choked out on whisper, "Emmet."

"You can do this, Baby," Emmet whispered back. "You're the bravest person I know, did I ever tell you that—"

"_Did I tell you my dad wants to send me to military school? I said, fuck nooo…"_

"_I think your dad might be right, a little military school or something might do you some good."_

"_I always wanted to go to military school. You know, those sleek uniforms, well cut."_

"_Taking orders, getting punished,"_

"_Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Ow!"_

"_And don't forget showering with all those cadets…"_

"Justin?" Emmet asked, sounding a little panicked, breaking Justin out of the dream.

"I'm okay," he wheezed, breathless. "Argh!" He clutched his head, feeling himself be yanked back—

"_Ahem."_

"_Ooh…"_

"_Whoa, oh my…"_

"_Whoever thought we'd see the day, Brian Kinney driving an economy compact."  
"Sub compact."_

"_And I have to get a new car this week."_

"_Another fuck mobile?"_

"_Please, at his age he needs all the help he can get to attract all those hot young things."_

"_I thought after what happened, you might consider something a little more practical."_

"_What, like something an accountant might drive?"_

"_You don't want any more weirdos ramming into you."_

"I never heard him complain about that before," he whispered. He chuckled to himself at the half-serious joke.

"_See you!"_

"_Bye!"_

"_So… you excited about the new car?"_

"_Fuck the car."_

"_Guess I should drop you, then."_

"_Please."_

"_Get in."_

"Fuck!" Justin swore, clinging to Emmet, hearing the distant sound of a punch, an image of Brian falling to the floor making him choke. He felt the floor fall away, hands lifting him, setting him somewhere soft. "Make it stop…!"

"_It's his dad, stop it!"_

"_That's it, Justin. That is it. You come home with me right now or you never come home again…"_

"_Fuck!"_

"_Never again. Did you hear me? I said, never again. Go! Get the fuck out of here! Go! I'm never coming home again. Never!"_

"_Justin…"_

"_Fucking never!"_

"…_stop."_

"Stop." Justin couldn't even sit up, shaking and breathless, pain beating rhythmically behind his forehead, his skull straining at the pressure. He blinked up at Emmet, who'd turned pale and worried, clutching his hand.

"Baby?"

He had to swallow a few times before he could whisper, "Pain."

"Okay," Emmet lowered his voice, nodding. He turned and half-whispered at a nearby nurse, "Painkillers?" With a nod, the guy trotted off to fetch the meds, and Emmet returned to focusing on Justin. "You okay besides that?"

Justin made an affirmative noise, shutting his eyes against the agony and brilliant light of the little sitting room. He'd been lifted up onto the couch. Then he remembered, blinking his eyes open, swallowing with difficulty again before he could get it out, "Allergies."

"You're allergic? What--? Oh! To painkillers?"

"Paracetamol only, k?" Justin whispered, shutting his eyes again.

"Okay," Emmet replied but his voice came from far away and black swallowed him up.

--

"Baby, you okay?" Emmet whispered.

"Hmm?" Justin groggily moaned and slowly sat up.

"Careful," Emmet said, helping him up, "You've been out for a bit."

Justin massaged his forehead, looking over his crumpled clothes, taking in the empty little room with the four bunk beds stuffed into it. "Headache's gone. Where am I?"

"One of the guest rooms, we're still at the Hospice," Emmet replied. "The staff use it when they need to rest before going home or before a shift. General use, you know?" He looked worried and exhausted.

"You okay?" asked Justin, "You look… like you've been keeping an eye on me—how long have I been here?"

"Couple of hours," Emmet replied, "Don't worry. I told your mom you had to rest after a couple of flashbacks." No mention of Chris Hobbs.

"Thanks." Justin tossed his legs over the edge of the bed, moving over a little when Emmet sat down beside him.

"You sure you're okay?"

Justin flashed him a quick smile, "Yeah. Just… it's a lot to take in sometimes."

"What did you remember?" Emmet solicitously stroked Justin's back, back and forth.

"The night we were coming out of Babylon and I was talking about my dad wanting to send me to military school," Justin sighed, "Brian was driving some shit insurance replacement sub-compact talking about buying a new car the next week."

Emmet gave a soft laugh, "Yeah, I remember that."

"Is that when he bought the jeep?" Justin fiddled with his crumpled trouser leg, debating what he could ask about what he'd remembered.

"Uh-hmm," Emmet smiled, "Lindsay went with him, with Gus in a little carrier. I heard they terrorized the salesman and Brian nearly got sued."

"Troublemaker Brian," Justin breathed. "He's always been a little wild, huh?"

"From what Michael used to say," Emmet laughed, "Yeah. Don't really think much has changed. Not like any constraint of society is going to ever convince him to behave himself."

Something stung in Justin's chest at the words and he couldn't help but grimace.

"Something the matter?" Emmet asked.

"Just… wondering why I keep chasing Brian," Justin murmured. "There's something... something—"

"About him?" finished Emmet. He smiled at Justin's somewhat startled glance, "There's always something about Brian Kinney. Everyone's looking for Brian. All the gay boys want to fuck, suck, rim and ram like Brian fucking Kinney." He shrugged and angled a cheerful smile at his friend, "That's part of his charm, I suppose. And he seems to love his life."

"That and Michael," Justin muttered.

"And Vic and Deb," Emmet added.

Justin murmured softly to himself, "No room for me, I guess."

Emmet sighed, "You really want him, huh?"

"I wish I could explain it right," Justin said, looking up at Emmet, "There's like some instinctive part of me that knows he's not just like that. I mean, I'm not saying he's not all those things you said. But sometimes he's… he's not so tough. Sometimes, he's nice and says things that make me…"

"That lead you along?" Emmet asked when Justin trailed off. His expression turned half thoughtful and half resigned, "Baby, I figured out way back that you and Brian had something special going on. He's very rarely been sweet on anyone for an extended amount of time. And the clingier they are, the quicker he pulls away. Except for you. No matter how clingy you were, no matter how much you followed him around, you snapped right back if he dared to jab at you. He just thought you were cute."

Justin allowed a small, genuine smile.

Emmet tapped him on the nose, "Which you are. And I think what you had was great. But even then," Emmet shrugged, "We all felt it wasn't going to really last. Brian's just… a very specific kind of guy. And the kind of guy he is, is not the committing type."

"And me?" Justin prodded tiredly.

"You're the Keeper type," Emmet stated firmly, smile resurfacing. "You're the type a committing-type guy knows to keep around and hold on to. And you're also the type to love too hard and too fast, because that's the only way you know how."

Justin sighed, thinking on all he knew of Brian's ways and wondering how the conversation had come around to here again. "Do you think I'd be stupid if I just want to love him for as long as I can?"

Emmet sighed, "Baby, I'm the last person to tell you to let go of how you feel. Love him if you want to. Just don't let him lead you along… and when it's time to move on, don't let him break you."

Justin hugged Emmet tight, feeling a kind of sorrow heavy in his chest at the conclusion this conversation left him about Brian… but better when those long arms wrapped comfortingly back over him, "Thank you, Em."

"You're always welcome, sweetie."

_TBC_


End file.
